Moonstruck
by ohmygodagiantrock
Summary: A tragic airplane crash seems to have severed young Mokuba's life, though a mysteriously familiar woman on board survives. When medics declare Mokuba's lifeless body resuscitated, Seto grows suspicious. Who is the young teenager Seto brings home? More importantly, what is he seeking to gain?
1. Prologue I: Summer

_July_

Bright. Full of life. Cheerful.

Happy.

All things that once had been. All things that he no longer related to, or knew how to feel. Because the person who had once—had _always_ —shown him these things, was gone.

 _How did it come to this?_

Seto perched at his desk, the four walls of his office surrounding him like a fort. Keeping everything out, keeping everyone away. Nothing could touch him. Maybe that was why he felt so strung-out. It had been that way for a while.

Aside from the constant, distant buzzing of the lights, the room was entirely silent. Moonlit dusk crept over his shoulders.

Papers scattered across the desk, littered with brightly colored post-it notes marking urgency. A laptop computer slept beside his elbow, red LED light flashing at one-second intervals. The machine indicated its personal panic, a fright of time running out, but the communication went ignored.

He had his own personal panic to tend to, after all.

No "Shadow Realm". No "sealed soul". Nothing that could be undone by fighting the "bad guy". Ever again.

July was supposed to be a cheerful month. It was summer, bright and hot and relaxing. More than that, July was sacred. July, Mokuba's birthday month. The month in which, fifteen years before, Seto Kaiba—before he'd ever _heard_ the name Kaiba—had been given a sibling, to love and protect for the rest of his life.

The rest of _whose_ life, exactly? Because it damn well wasn't his own, Seto knew for sure. Mokuba had died in June. He'd never seen that fifteenth birthday.

Seto held fast and braced himself for the coming month. He understood grief, and knew that it took time to settle its cold, sharp claws into unwilling victims. So he fell into mechanical routine. He worked, he ate, he slept; he _did_ , but he never _felt_ anymore.

For a while, Seto Kaiba let the robot take over.


	2. Prologue II: Autumn

_August._

July had felt so wrong. So insultingly wrong that Seto had a mind to take offense. He had had to shut the world out. Shut out his television, his radio, even his computer. He ignored his phone. He let the robot handle the details. July was not a time he could handle.

By the powers with which Seto Kaiba had ordained himself, he silently and passively decreed that July simply wasn't allowed to exist. Not without _him_.

But he couldn't stay that way forever. If he had meant to shut out all the light and noise of the outside world from his life for long enough, he might as well have put a bullet in his head, finish the job. But he wasn't a quitter. His own reputation, and _his_ memories, didn't allow him such relief.

And so, eventually, as stifling July faded into crisp August, Seto Kaiba came back online.

And a month—one _fucking month_ , just when he'd finally begun to wake up—was all the time needed for every last shred of dignity, life and passion left inside him to get shot completely to hell.


	3. A New King

_Author's Notes: I've decided to try to keep my mouth shut more often during stories. So unless something needs to be stated within the chapter, any notes will be on my profile, where my author's notes are already being posted as "updates" at the bottom. They're not hard to find. Thanks—omgagr._

* * *

 _June…_

He couldn't help himself from trying to find ways to pass the time.

Seto Kaiba sat at the glossy oak desk in his study, the television on on the opposite side of the room, to fight away the quiet. Mokuba's flight to Munich had departed hours before, and he wasn't scheduled to return for two weeks. Seto wasn't used to the younger being so far away, but he was trying not to dwell on that.

His eyes skimmed contract after contract. He hadn't been paying the television any attention, until the Duel Monsters news program came on and caught Seto's ear. He raised his head. The newswoman spoke about a topic he had already caught wind of but had not had time to investigate himself. The brunette faced the camera and spoke into her microphone.

"Today, duel monsters fans, we will investigate the rumors that have been flying for the last week regarding Yugi Mutou having lost his championship crown. We take you to the Kame Game shop in downtown Domino City, Japan, where Yugi helps run the family business dealing in the buying and selling of Duel Monsters cards, as well as many other popular games."

The woman in front of the camera backed to one side so Yugi Mutou could be seen clearly from behind the counter of his grandfather's game shop.

"Hello, Yugi, how are you doing this fine afternoon?"

"Ah… j-just fine, I s-suppose." He stuttered.

"You sound a little nervous Yugi. But we at Duel Monsters Television understand this is not your first television appearance."

Yugi blushed. "No it's not. But I'm still n-not really used to it, I guess." He tried to laugh.

"I see. Well Yugi, can you tell us about the new rumor circling throughout the dueling world this past week?"

"Yes, ma'am. The rumors are true." Yugi admitted cheerfully, no hint of remorse or frustration apparent in his voice.

 _If it w_ _ere_ _there_ , Seto Kaiba reasoned, _he masks it well._

"Would you like to elaborate on that? Who did you lose your title to?" The woman continued.

Seto had now lowered the file and turned from his desk to pay full attention to the flat screen on the wall.

"An old friend returned to Domino City unexpectedly about a week ago. We played a few friendly games of Duel Monsters, and he won each time."

Seto sat up a little straighter at this, propping his elbows on his desk and weaving his fingers together.

"Are you going to tell us the name of this 'friend' of yours so all of the Duel Monsters fans watching today may know who the new King of Games is?"

"No." The woman raised her eyebrows at him in question. Yugi noticed her look and tried to explain. "I'd rather not upset his privacy without permission, you understand. But I'm sure he's going to make himself known soon enough."

At this, Seto flashed a meaningful glance to his side… before he remembered that the place Mokuba usually took over his shoulder was empty.

"And how are you taking this string of defeat, Mr. Mutou?"

"I'm fine with it, really. I had fun playing my favorite game with a good friend, even if I lost. And I have to admit it might be nice to be free of some of the extra attention." He laughed nervously, immediately worrying if his fans now thought of him as rude or ungrateful.

"I see. You've accepted your defeat very humbly. I don't know about all that attention though! The dueling world still sees you as among the top contenders, along with the other big names like Seto Kaiba and Joey Wheeler. So don't be surprised if you still find yourself being hounded for autographs!"

Yugi's face sunk slightly at the mention of this, cheeks growing redder still, but the woman paid no more attention to him, stepping back into the middle of the camera's view.

"Well, you heard it here, ladies and gentlemen! Yugi Mutou has admitted personally that he is no longer the King of Games! It sounds like we'll just have to wait patiently until this new 'king' reveals himself. Stay tuned after the break—"

Seto walked up behind the couch—Mokuba was usually present and reliable for this task—and muted the television.

He didn't need to wonder who the "New King" was; he knew. _H_ _ow_ he knew with such certainty was what really had him wondering. Of course, if he had to admit it to himself, Seto did know the answer, but it confused him nonetheless.

The dreams had stopped.

The dreams had begun the very night the pharaoh had been sent into the afterlife. They had become windows between his mind, and the mind of the man that Seto had been told he shared a soul with. But Seto Kaiba didn't believe in souls.

Not back then, at least.

But before he had time to recall the dreams, the telephone on his desk rang. He stepped over to it, placed the receiver to his ear, and spoke roughly to the receptionist on the other end.

"What?" His voice was stern, laced with a dangerous echo.

"Sorry for the interruption, sir, but you have a video call on line 4."

"Who is it?"

"The man refused to identify himself. He instructed me to refer to him as… "The Pharaoh", and that you would know what that means."

Seto smirked. "Put him through."

Seto sat back in his tall leather chair while the receptionist complied. The display screen on his desk flashed to life and a familiar face appeared, grinning.

"Hello, Kaiba. It's been quite a while."

"Indeed, it has, _Atem_."

Seto didn't question the pharaoh's presence. He had caught glimmers of a rumor from other duelists that Yugi's title had finally been taken from him, as though by a thief in the middle of the night. The rumor first reached his ears the day immediately following his first sleep in over a year with no dreams of the ancient world.

Seto pushed away all thoughts of death and broken connections. Somehow he knew with utter certainty at that moment that his dreams had stopped not because the pharaoh had disappeared or died within the afterlife; rather awoken, and returned. One week later he was receiving a video call from a man who, by ordinary reasoning, oughtn't exist.

The man lay outstretched on a large plush sofa. His feet were up on the cushions, one leg bent and the other straight and resting on a pillow. His torso was twisted so he was sitting partially upright facing the screen. He had one arm across his lap and the other was hanging out of view over the arm of the couch.

The wall behind him was plain and there was nothing else in view to give Seto a clue as to where his rival was currently located.

"I take it you're the new mystery King of Games everybody's talking about?" Seto continued.

"Newly recognized, at least." Atem answered smugly. "We both know my being the King of Games isn't exactly news. Not to us, at least."

Seto's tone was smug. "Exactly how long do you expect to hang on to that title?"

Atem chuckled. "Kaiba, are you taunting me? One might think you have an interest in this new-found crown of mine."

"Hm. Is there a particular reason you're calling me?"

The former pharaoh smirked at the businessman. He held up his arm, previously hidden from view, sporting the duel disk he received before Battle City, deck installed and ready for a game.

"Why do you think?"

Seto closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them his smirk was renewed.

"Meet me at my headquarters with your deck in thirty minutes. Oh, and leave that outdated duel disk behind. There will be a much improved model waiting for you upon your—"

Seto's eyes caught a glimpse of the television against the wall. A newsreel had cut into the running program. The faraway image of a pillar of smoke filled the screen. A new clip showed a mountain view, and the pillar of smoke from a distance.

The headline stamped across the screen read, _"_ _BREAKING:_ _Corporate Aircraft Crash Caught on Video"_.

Isono entered the office without announcing himself.

"Seto-sama. You need to turn on the news. _Now_." Isono stopped in the middle of the room when he took note of his employer's frozen state.

Seto's eyes—already glued to the television screen—were wide, and he didn't realize that his jaw was trying to work, although he wasn't making any kind of sound.

Neither Isono's presence, nor Atem's concerned voice through the speaker, registered in his mind. He drank in the footage of the burning aircraft, the unmistakable frame of KC1 to Germany. Flaming rubble slid down the mountain into which it had crashed.

Text at the bottom of the screen stated in bold, " _No known survivors_...".

Seto replaced the receiver without taking his eyes off the screen. The scrappy, far-away footage played again, the camera panning from right to left across the fiery wreckage, then flipping to close-up images of the crushed-in cabin. In one corner of the screen, for just a second, Seto caught sight of what looked to be charred human remains.

" _Kaiba_?" Seto heard through the earpiece.

Isono pressed the mute button on the television remote. A man's gruff voice broke in in the middle of the announcement.

"… private aircraft, carrying thirty-six passengers and flight crew total, crashed into the Caucasus mountain range, west of the Caspian Sea. Authorities are surveying the area, but no known survivors have been found. The reason for the collision has not yet been determined."

"I have to go," Seto mumbled into the phone. His focus remained on the television as he returned the receiver to its hook, ending the call.


	4. Night Visions

_One Year Before. United States._

 _Seto had not told his brother about the dreams. After all, he had only begun to understand them himself. But if any one thing was clear, it was that the dreams had changed Seto—they had opened him somehow._

 _The dreams came every night for a year after the Ceremonial Duel in Egypt, relentlessly._

* * *

He opened his sleepy eyes to a strange sight. He did not feel quite like himself. His clothing felt unusual, though he did not look down to examine himself. He could feel that there were scrapes and bruises across his golden skin. A great battle had just been won, he understood.

* * *

I held the millennium puzzle in my hands; it had been given to me by the king himself. He had only just awarded me with the position of the new King of Egypt, before walking off somewhere. I could not say I saw where he had gone. Why he chose me, I still do not fully understand. However, if my king Atem deems me worthy of the title he placed on my shoulders, I shall do my best to prove him right.

I returned to the High Priest's quarters for the evening. I could only hope he made the right decision by appointing me. Just as I set the puzzle down on my bedside table, a gentle knock came to my chamber door. I rose to answer it but my visitor entered before I could.

The petite man, my former pharaoh, stood before me. I fought the urge to reason with him to take his position back. Instead, like the loyal subject I have tried for so long to be, I remained silent, though I struggled to decide whether or not to at least kneel before the man.

However, he interrupted my thoughts by crouching and kneeling before me instead. I tried to protest, but he held up a hand, keeping me silent still. After all, I am the king now, am I not?

"Rise," I stated, trying to sound bold but probably coming off as uncertain. The position would take some time to get used to. "To what do I owe your visit, my ki—ah, Atem?"

The small man rose to his feet and, in the dim light from the lamp, I saw a light smile grace his features.

"My king," he stated resolutely, his powerful voice echoing off the walls of my chamber. "This is no longer your room." I gave him a questioning look before he explained himself. "You are the pharaoh now, Set. You are to take up my previous quarters."

"But, my liege…" I started, stopped again by his hand in the air. "Atem," I tried again, and he gave an approving smile, "where are you to sleep? You have served Egypt as a magnificent king. What chamber is grandiose enough for one such as yourself, if not the Pharaoh's Chamber?"

"Set, I am still a member of the royal court. True, I have grown up in the palace, and I am used to living in high luxury, but it isn't as though I'll be living in the streets. I will still have a place here in the palace."

"What place will you have in the phar—ah, in my court?"

"I suspect, sadly—especially in light of recent events—Shimon will not see many more days. When he passes, I shall fill his place as your adviser. Until then, I will simply act as an overseer, and a friend."

I could not help but smile inwardly about this, heavily relieved. It was good to know I would have such a capable adviser, even if not immediately. Atem did not let me reflect long before speaking again.

"Come, my king, you have a new room. Let us get settled in to our new quarters so that we may rest." I turned to retrieve the puzzle and followed my former king out of the room.

I arrived at the doorway of the room I was to lay my head every night. I stared in awe. While I may have known Atem and lived in the palace a few years, I had not ever been given the opportunity to glimpse the splendid territory in which he lived. And now it was mine? I could hardly conceive it.

I tried not to gape as I stared around the room. The walls were colored pale brown and strewn with expensive fabric, decorated with art and pottery on pedestals. The bed— _my_ bed—was draped with violet curtains. A golden pitcher and basin sat on a table by the bedside.

The room was set up similarly to my own room, but the décor was far more lavish than I could have dreamed. I had no need to bring any of my things; this room appeared to be full with clothing and anything else that was appropriate for me to have access to as the new king.

I peered out over the open balcony and, upon seeing the black sky, determined it was well past time to lay my head down for the night. After removing the puzzle from around my neck and setting it aside for safekeeping, I settled into my new bed and closed my eyes.

* * *

 _In the beginning, the dreams seemed like strange glimmers of the recent happenings in Egypt drenching his unconscious thoughts. But he soon realized that those dreams were unfolding into a story—a living diary, perhaps._

 _The diary divulged the most vivid details of the life of a man Seto knew little about, but had been told time and again he was an ancient counterpart of Seto himself. The facts he did know about the High Priest Set, however, all checked out when placed in comparison to his dreams._

 _Seto discovered in time that he was not watching this other man's life through his own eyes while he slept; he was_ experiencing _it. He could see and smell and taste the things that Set could. He could feel the sensations that prickled his skin._

* * *

Seto opened his eyes and tried to rub the sleep away, but he couldn't escape the sense of confusion he felt from his dream. But his blaring alarm served to remind him he had other things to do than dwell on his adventures in slumber, and rose from his bed. He was home now, and it was time to get back into the swing of things. He had a company to run, and amusement parks to build.

Seto finished his morning routine and sat at his desk at his US office, trying to pour himself over blueprints of his next park. But for some reason, he couldn't escape the eerie feeling of having seen a dead man in his dream the night before. It wasn't something that he felt _should_ have bothered him, considering how often Gozaburo and Noa, or even occasionally his parents, visited his dreams. But for some reason the dream kept finding its way back into his thoughts.

 _It felt s_ _o_ _real_ , he thought. The colors, lights and sensations had been more vivid than any dream he had ever experienced. _But it couldn't mean anything. Just an overactive imagination and so much pent-up energy from all of the recent happenings._

On top of the confusion, Seto couldn't help but feel irritated that the rantings of that man, (or pharaoh, or spirit, or whatever he was,) had finally gotten under his skin enough to enter his dreams. He had dreamed of Set, that man he was told time and time again that he was linked to. But time and time again, he still denied it, and yet he'd dreamed of his life.

He had focused on work as much as he could manage, but Seto's straying thoughts had forced him to work a few hours overtime. Not that this was terribly unusual for the CEO, but it was usually due to an overload of work, not an inability to focus. By the time he found himself back in his US home for the evening, he felt ready for rest again. He ducked his head into his little brother's room to check on him for a moment, and when he was satisfied that the boy was safe and asleep, he continued down the hall to his own room.

* * *

 _Seto found that he could essentially live out two lives through those dreams, and he had none that didn't revolve around Set in ancient Egypt. He could not control the actions taken by his other self, but he found that each and every move the man made was exactly what Seto would have done._

* * *

I shifted for what must have been the fifth time within the hour. While outstanding in appearance, I could not find this throne terribly comfortable. So little so, in fact, that sitting upon it was making it difficult for me to focus on what the men around me were saying. However, I tried, with difficulty, not to let any discomfort flash across my features.

I understood the importance of maintaining a kingly image, after all. Shimon, standing on my right, nudged me discreetly, apparently trying to make the idea even more clear to me. The men in front of me continued to drone on, and I did my best to pay attention and respond accordingly. As High Priest, I hadn't had to handle any of this.

Later—much later than I'd hoped—the meeting ended and my subjects were dismissed. Among them was the former pharaoh Atem. I was surprised to find myself wishing he would have stayed. However, Shimon reminded me I had other duties to attend to at the present.

Having followed my subjects to a secluded area of the royal courtyard, I found myself standing at the head of a circle of stone tablets lying flat on the ground. The carving of the stone opposite myself mimicked an image of the majestic white dragon. A pang of intense grief struck me suddenly, and a vision of white-silver hair flashed in my mind's eye.

All at once I understood the purpose of coming here. Aghast, I turned to my advisor, Shimon. Surely he could not be a part of this, this… what was this? A training exercise? That couldn't be!

"Shimon!" I shouted in the most commanding voice I could muster. "What is the meaning of this! You cannot expect me to release these monsters! Zorc and the thief who released that demon are gone and our land is safe. Should we not focus our resources on restoring Egypt rather than raising an army of creatures?"

"Yes, my king." Shimon nodded. "But that is what we are doing here. Your court believes it is in Egypt's best interest for you to master wielding these powerful weapons. They may serve as defense as well as offense, after all."

"My pharaoh, Egypt is recovering." Isis stepped in. "We are weak. It would be all too easy for our enemies to sweep in and wage war against us. It is important for each of us, you especially, to be able to defend ourselves against an enemy."

"Please, pharaoh, this is highly advised." Shimon concluded.

Yes, I could see the Royal Court's side of this. But playing with these dark forces was dangerous—we had all seen how very destructive they could be!

"Can I not simply use my sword were I to be attacked?"

"Against a mortal man, certainly, pharaoh. It is true that you are a skilled fighter. However, man-made weapons will do nothing for you if your enemy controls a creature of darkness. Therefore you must hone your ability to summon and control them as well."

"I see." I did not wholly agree with the argument, but I did see the benefit in perfecting my skills to control these shadow creatures for the sake of my land.

Not for the first time since accepting the place of the pharaoh, I found myself wondering how prepared I was to have taken this office.

* * *

I descended the steps on the courtyard with muted strides, enjoying the fresh night air and appreciating the rare quiet. I didn't usually wander around the palace at night without a guard, but certain thoughts were beginning to plague my mind, preventing me from sleep.

I had strapped a knife to my waist for protection, just in case.

But as I wandered my courtyard garden, I found the night wasn't as quiet as I had expected. Voices—low, discreet whispers—hummed through the foliage.

I kicked off my sandals and carried them, silencing my footsteps as I moved closer to the sound. I picked out three voices before I could see who they belonged to; one a calm female voice; another a deep male voice; and the third another female, higher, and more energetic than the first.

When I peeked cautiously around the other side of a patch of tall, decorative shrubs, I finally saw them. The keeper of the sennen tauk, Isis, sat on the ground beside a fountain of water. Across from her sat my secondary adviser, Atem, and his young magician friend, whose name would occasionally escape me. When I caught sight of the familiar faces, I wondered why I had thought to hide, until one of them spoke again.

Isis's face was difficult to read in the daytime, let alone in the moonlight. But my former king's expressions were painted in my memories well, and his drawn expression told me that something was off.

"I'm sorry to ask this of you both, but we need to keep this a secret from the Pharaoh," Atem stated.

The breath hitched in my throat. A meeting of treason? Not with two of my most trusted subjects. I couldn't make myself believe it. But if not, then what?

Isis and the girl—Mana, I remembered—both nodded.

"A grave problem has come upon us, my friends."

Even within a whisper, Atem's voice bellowed out with the practiced authority of a king, despite that he had given that title away.

"What kind of problem, Prince?" Mana asked.

"My golden item has not warned me of any danger, Your Highness," Isis said, her brows furrowed.

"That, Isis, may be our first testament to this fact. Please tell me; if your necklace were to suddenly stop giving you visions, how would you be able to discern whether all was well in the land, or that your item has ceased being able to inform you that it is not?"

The woman of my royal court bowed her head. "I would consult the other High Priests. If the remaining six items seemed to be working properly, then I would discern that all is well. If not, however, then I would assert that we have a problem."

"You both know I no longer hold the Pharaoh's puzzle. I have given it to Set, as the new King."

"And he has been using it wisely," Isis said.

"Yes," Atem agreed, "although I can tell you with conviction that as of late he has not been using it at all."

"That's true, I believe. It has been some time since we've seen him use it to banish evildoers. Prisoners in the dungeon have been left to sit longer than the court has decreed."

"Set has not been using his item, because it no longer works for him."

My lungs erupted a gasp before I could think to silence it, then slapped a hand over my mouth. How could he know such a thing? I hadn't confided that information to anyone! Was he connected to the item still somehow?

Atem glanced up. His eyes seemed to drift in my direction just as I ducked behind the shrubbery, as silently as I could manage. I held my breath, and after a few long moments the silence was broken. If Atem suspected the presence of an eavesdropper, he said nothing.

"How do you know his puzzle isn't working?" Mana asked.

I leaned in again, listening intently for the response. This time I didn't peek quite as far into the open; just enough to see the forms through the leaves of the bushes.

Atem laughed softly. "Set and I hail from the same bloodline. Even if he wasn't brought up in the palace, I believe I know him better than most. He's a proud king. He's trying to solve the problem on his own before he even lets on that there is one. I don't think, however, that he anticipated the problem spreading to the other six items."

I couldn't help but smirk. Atem was right. I peered down at the artifact dangling from my neck. I didn't like to leave it in my chambers unattended, even so late into the night. I cupped the puzzle in my hands. I felt no energy flowing from it like I had when Atem had first passed it on to me.

I had tried to use it to unleash a monster from the stone tablets during a particular training session, like I had used the puzzle to do many times before. However, no monster had come forth. Initially, I had thought it a problem with the tablet itself. But private session after session, nothing would happen.

"Are you saying that this problem began with the puzzle?" Isis asked.

"That's what the evidence shows me."

"I know the items have helped us in the past," Isis said. "Most recently they've been essential to us defeating the Thief. But perhaps it is time for us to let them go. The Royal Court has protected this land without them before."

"While that is true, we cannot allow ourselves to give up these items. Something is interfering with the magic in them, and we _cannot_ allow it to continue. The items my father forged are much more essential that you may realize. They need to live on."

"Why do you speak so cryptically?" Mana asked.

"Because I hold information that you two do not, but I cannot share it with you. Not yet, at least. Trust that I know the importance of the items and their survival. There is someone, a long time from now, who will need them. We need to make sure they reach his hands, for the good of our world."

"I trust you," Isis said.

* * *

Seto awoke precisely two minutes before his alarm. He sat up in bed, the sheets pooling around his midsection, and let an unnamed sensation wash over him. He didn't know what to do with the scene he'd just dreamed. The setting had felt so foreboding. But what did it mean?

A panic began to seep into him, making his heart race. Like someone fixated on a television drama, Seto found himself aching to know what would happen next in the ancient world.

Like all the other dreams, he remembered this one vividly. The cool night breeze and the sand under his feet had left imprints on his skin that he could still feel.

Then the sensation Seto couldn't place dissolved, replaced by frustration. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, slammed a button on his bedside clock to cancel the alarm, and shoved himself off the bed.

"People can't _feel_ dreams," he muttered to himself as he set off for his morning routine.

* * *

 _Nearly a year had passed since the Ceremonial Duel, and the night-visions abruptly stopped._

 _Seto didn't know what to think. He was certainly thrown off guard the first night in over a year that he had awoken from a normal dream, unrelated to the past; his past, he now understood. There was no script in these dreams, after all—no way of truly knowing what befell the characters that ruled his dreams._

 _He had had a link to the pharaoh's other world, that had somehow been broken. Had either Atem or Set passed away in this other time he was connected to? Seto felt an inescapable uneasiness when that possibility had crossed his mind. Partly because he didn't want to think about it; partly because he somehow suspected it wasn't true._

 _Then, he heard the rumors. He knew the King of Games had returned._

* * *

A/N: I still intend to share notes sparingly at most, but I did want to clarify in case there was any confusion in this chapter, that I'll be jumping time lines. I'm working with not only two time lines, but three. The scenes between dreams exist during the time between Atem's departure into the afterlife and the story's "Present Day" time line. Please note the top of the chapter for a note on when each chapter takes place, when applicable. Thanks!

~omgagr


	5. System Failure

_June, Present Day._

Seto didn't know how long he remained standing at his desk while the ice worked its way through his veins. He didn't notice that he was barely breathing, or that the newsreel had already moved on to another story.

Half a minute passed before Seto even registered that he had company. Slowly, his body began to work again. The movement started in his fingers, which curled into tight fists against the wood of his desktop. He blinked and turned his face toward Isono.

Isono was watching him, his face pale. Seto stared back, but he still didn't seem to have anything to say.

"I – I'm so sorry, sir," Isono started.

Seto held up a hand to silence him. His expression looked suddenly angry.

"We don't know anything yet," he insisted, but his voice came out sounding dry.

"Yes, sir," Isono agreed, although he looked like he were about to say something else.

Seto slumped back into his chair, fists still in tight balls in his desktop.

"I am prepared to face the worst," he said quietly. "But I won't jump to conclusions until I hold the evidence in my own hands."

"You are going to the... ah, site, sir?"

Seto was a moment in answering. His face was blank again, staring down at nothing. "I have to see for myself."

Finally Seto's shoulders twitched and his whole body turned back to his desk.

Seto's arm moved mechanically to lift the receiver on his desk again. Like a well-programmed robot, he pressed the receiver to his ear and punched in a number. He offered no greeting.

"Get me—" he tried, but his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Get me a technician in the hangar," he managed to choke out to his secretary. After two rings a new voice came on the line. "Prepare my jet for flight," Seto commanded. After a simple affirmation he hung up the phone.

* * *

He barely registered the flight as he soared through the sky as fast as his jet could carry him. He refused to allow himself to think, or to perform anything more than mechanical actions. He constructed complex math problems in his head and recited tables of information he'd memorized.

This went on for hours, until he finally arrived on a landing strip in a town nearest to the crash site. He rented a car, silently relieved for the technical distraction, and yet agitated that the process was so full of wasted time. He had somewhere important to be.

The first thing Seto noticed when he climbed out of his rental car, before he even saw the smoke, was the stench. Burning plastic, burning _people_. He'd heard stories of war veterans who came back saying it smelled like _that_.

The authorities almost didn't allow Seto Kaiba onto the scene. _Almost_. But when he flashed his identification to prove he really was the man attached to the name they revered, he let a glimpse of the shiny steel weapon inside his coat show, paired with the fury painted on his face. The man in charge of the investigation muttered something to a subordinate and stepped aside, seeming to pretend that the businessman was an authorized party.

Seto shuffled through the wreckage with a keen level of interest in each detail he passed by. He'd pulled up Mokuba's flight itinerary and memorized his seat number, but amidst the scrambled debris that information meant almost nothing. The rescue crew had managed to pull aside the remains of many bodies and were working on identifying each, but didn't seem to be having much luck. There wasn't much left of anyone to identify.

Seto glanced over those fallen, but knew almost instantly that none of them could have been Mokuba. Each body was large enough to clearly have been an adult or, tragically, small enough to be a young child.

Seto stepped gingerly over a charred, disembodied arm. His next step shifted a piece of metal that used to be part of a wing, and something shiny flashed in his vision. He crouched down and picked up a twisted piece of metal with a small shard of broken glass stuck to it. The metal was painted a shade of brown that he recognized instantly.

He reached a hand down the neck of his shirt, pulled out his locket and clicked it open. He tried his best to ignore the grinning face of his five-year-old brother's photograph and focus only on the structure of the locket. The metals and the paint matched. Seto knew beyond a doubt that he'd found a piece of of Mokuba's necklace. Lifting another piece of metal revealed the broken leather strap he'd used to tie Seto's picture around his neck, but that was all he could locate before a shout from the distance grabbed his attention.

"I found a live one!" a paramedic called out. Seto snapped to attention and immediately sought from where the voice had come. A small crowd gathered.

"Get the stretcher, quick! She's still breathing!" Another man shouted. Seto watched for a few seconds while the men in blue shirts lifted an adult woman onto the flat surface and carried her away from the wreck. Though her body was crumpled, she appeared tall, with long, thin limbs and light-colored hair. There was no way to mistake her for Mokuba's stocky frame and midnight black hair. Seto went back to his search with suddenly renewed vigor.

He tried to ignore the surge of hope beginning to sing in his chest. He knew optimism would only bring more pain when he found the inevitable. But he couldn't help himself. If that woman had managed to live through the aircraft driving into the face of a mountain, then maybe, just maybe, _he_...

Seto shook his head violently. He _wanted_ to find his brother, but he could only allow himself to _expect_ to find his body. Or... enough of it. Just enough to know for sure.

"How many bodies are still missing?" one of the officers on the scene asked another.

"We have record of thirty-six passengers and staff, total. We've located twenty-eight bodies, and one surviving passenger. There are seven left we have yet to find." Seto cringed at the implications. Many of those passengers, more than just Mokuba, had been his employees. Even if he did find Mokuba alive, this crash would be a mess not easily forgotten.

"Has anyone located the flight data recorder?" the first officer asked.

"Not yet. We're still searching."

Seto listened while he walked.

"Do that. We've got to find out why this thing crashed. The pilot and most of the flight crew have been found, dead." The officer scanned over the scene and shook his head. "A real pity." Seto ground his teeth. This was much more than a _pity_ , he thought.

Then he saw it. It looked at first like just a shadow peeking out beneath a sheet of metal that used to be the propeller. Then he saw that the shadow had a shape that didn't quite make sense. Seto stepped closer. He knelt down slowly. He reached out a hand to touch the dark spot, but froze. He could see that he was wrong.

It was black, but it wasn't just a shadow. It was a knotted mop of black hair.

Seto didn't have to touch it to realize that he _knew_ that knotted mop of black hair.

"You there!" one of the officers shouted. The man was closer to Seto than he had realized. "Did you find something? Speak up!" The officer was trotting toward Seto, carelessly tramping over the debris.

"Get a medic," Seto said. "I've found someone."

He bent down to lift some of the debris himself when the officer stopped him.

"Don't," came the deep voice, a firm hand on Seto's shoulder. "Just step back. You probably don't want to see what's under there."

Seto kept moving as if the man wasn't there.

* * *

The body lay flat on its stomach. Seto recognized the clothing—though charred in places—before he saw the face. When he was uncovered Seto carefully, slowly, turned him over onto his back. He understood without having to be told that the sight, going forward, wouldn't be one he could ever forget.

Mokuba looked as though he were sleeping. His face was heavily bruised, and Seto suspected that more than a few bones might be broken, but the peaceful look on his still face wrenched his heart. Seto placed two fingers against the side of his brother's neck.

He felt nothing. He couldn't find a pulse underneath the cold, rubbery skin of his neck. He placed an ear against his chest, but heard no breathing.

Seto counted himself lucky.

If damn near every other passenger on the aircraft had had to die, at least Seto was lucky enough to look at his brother's face and not be haunted by the sight. Maybe he had died quickly; perhaps a swift blow to the head, or maybe he had suffocated. At least he hadn't been painfully torn to pieces first, or burned alive.

He didn't wait for the paramedics to bring the stretcher. He checked for a pulse one last time, just to be sure. He still felt nothing, so he scooped the dead boy into his arms. He could hardly hear the voice of the officer who now stood beside him, even though his the way his mouth opened wide with every word made him look like he might be shouting. Seto continued to ignore the man, and carried his baby brother away from the wreckage of the plane.

Two of the men in blue shirts hurried to Seto with the stretcher and tried to take the crumpled boy from him.

Seto responded with a guttural sound that resembled a feral animal's growl.

"He's already dead," Seto said in a low tone. "Unless you want to end up just like the rest of these people, you'll get the _fuck_ away from me."

"Sir, it's important that we check over each individual passenger we find. We must survey the damage."

"Don't you think I can tell well enough that my brother isn't breathing? There's no damage to survey here. Just add one more check mark to your list." he hissed. He pushed past the men.

Seto found a patch of soft grass that hadn't been burned up by the fire and set Mokuba down gently. He sat down a few feet from the corpse, wondering just what to do next. He tried not to let his eyes wander back to Mokuba's face.

The charring that covered the back of Mokuba's shirt hadn't touched his front. The fabric had still been intact, but Seto suspected that if he lifted the shirt, he would find burn marks running across his back. He didn't dare.

Despite the large, dark bruise covering nearly one half of his face, he still appeared to be peacefully sleeping. He looked like, if Seto only shook him gently, he might wake up.

He couldn't stand it.

Seto pulled out his phone and punched a few buttons. He waited for Isono to pick up, the dull ringing through the phone sounding so ordinary and mundane that Seto found it jarring.

While the phone rang, he watched more of the paramedics group around the woman who was still alive. They had strapped an oxygen mask to her face, and she would occasionally move one of her arms; she seemed to be conscious. Seto wondered if she would survive long, or if she'd been injured badly enough that these might be her last hours.

Seto gave in to a sudden urge and let himself hate her. She could still move her arms. Seto wasn't close enough to be in hearing range, but he guessed that she might be trying to speak, and guessed that she could still do that, too. The woman could still breathe, _dam_ _n_ _it_ , when Mokuba was lying lifeless at his feet. He hated her. In that moment he hated—more than he had _ever_ hated Gozaburo, or Yugi, or in his darker hours, himself—the woman who had survived the plane crash, when his brother had not.

He glared at the woman in the distance while medics rushed around her and tried to keep her heart beating.

Seto hoped they succeeded. He hoped they helped her live, at least long enough that he could have the chance to tell her how much he hated that she'd made it. Make her _appreciate_ what kind of sacrifice he had made so that she could be alive.

Then the woman lifted a hand up to her face and pulled the oxygen mask down to her chin. She turned her head to the side, and her eyes locked onto Seto some forty feet in the distance, making his blood freeze. The woman, with her long, bony limbs, gaunt face and silver hair, was staring straight at him.

Seto recognized her. And then he hated her _more_.


	6. Casualty of Fate

Eventually the paramedics wheeled the woman's stretcher into a vehicle and drove down the side of the mountain. Two men came to move Mokuba's body. Seto let them. He'd known it was inevitable. He continued to sit in the grass and watch as a sheet was pulled over his brother and the corpse was prepared to join the rest of the dead. He twirled the phone in his hand, fidgeting idly. Not allowing himself to think.

Isono hadn't answered, and Seto wondered about that. He tried to take into account the difference in time zones, but disregarded the thought. Isono always answered regarding company business. With nothing else to do, Seto stood and followed slowly behind the medics as they wheeled Mokuba's stretcher down the mountain.

"Where are they being taken from here?" he asked.

At the bottom of the wreckage, the bodies were being lined up in organized rows. Seto had to cover his nose with his hand. The stench hadn't been as strong on higher ground.

"They'll start at the local hospital to be identified and autopsied. From there, families will be contacted and each passenger will be released into custody of their loved ones, or sent to a local funeral home for cremation if nobody can be reached."

"You don't have to identify him. I'm his guardian."

Seto felt his heart sink when he heard the word from his own lips. _Guardian_. A true guardian wouldn't have let this happen to his charge.

He eventually noticed that the man was holding a clipboard, staring at him expectantly.

" _Name_?" he asked insistently, like it wasn't the first time he'd tried to ask.

"His name is Mokuba Kaiba," he replied dully, spelling it out carefully. "When the... autopsy is finished, I'll take him home."

The medic wrote something on his clipboard, then tore off a sort of tag and pinned it to the cloth covering. The tag had Mokuba's full name scrawled on it.

Seto noticed the news vans and cameras in the distance, though he must have been too focused upon arriving to have seen them. He continued to follow the paramedics as they drew closer to the reporters. Many of them watched him, and a few even made a bold move in his direction, but Seto's jaw tightened and his form became more rigid. When he glared at the nearest cameraman, the man shrunk back. No one else approached him.

One of the paramedics was saying something about release forms at the hospital, but Seto could barely register the words. He nodded absently, not bothering to care that he hadn't paid attention. He asked for directions to the hospital, then walked to where he had parked his rental car.

* * *

Seto found the village nearest to the crash site appalling. When he reached the hospital, his concern evolved. The signs of disrepair were small from the outside. Cracks formed in the outer walls. Weeds crawled up the corners.

Inside the building, Seto stared. A few light bulbs had gone out and some flickered, making all the more clear that the white walls hadn't been washed or repainted in too long.

When he reached the waiting room, he stood in the corner a while, the seating arrangements entirely unappealing. But after an idle hour of waiting at the hospital, he relented. By then Seto was running out of things with which to occupy his mind, to keep him from thinking too much about... _well_. He had to remain mechanical, in order to function.

Again, he'd failed to reach Isono on the phone. But only a handful of minutes after his last attempt, Seto's employee strode into the hospital's waiting room. Seto wasn't certain he recognized him until the man sat beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I thought I might find you here, Seto-sama."

Seto ran a quick hand through his hair. "You didn't answer my calls because you were on a plane."

Isono nodded. "...Have you found him?" he asked in a low voice.

"They're doing an autopsy to find the cause of death."

Isono bowed his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I watched the news updates on my way here. The reporters claimed there was a survivor, but did not give a description. I suppose I had hoped..."

"So did I."

Without thinking—without _allowing_ himself to think—Seto pulled the twisted metal of Mokuba's locket from his coat pocket. He'd knocked the broken glass out at the mountain so he wouldn't cut himself on it. Only the picture frame was left, without its picture.

"Sir..." Isono said, but didn't follow it with anything else.

It was as close of an attempt at solace Kaiba would let him get.

* * *

Unable to sit still any longer, his thoughts threatening to break through his robotic defenses, Seto went in search of a physician. He began at the nurse's station, where he realized his Russian speech had grown rusty. After he fumbling through some sentences, he convinced the woman at the desk to page a doctor.

After nearly a minute, a man in a long white coat strode down the hall.

"Doctor Marangoz," the man said in a thick accent. "The nurse says you called for me?"

Seto nodded, relieved he didn't need to struggle through more Russian—although it would have given his mind something more to focus on.

Seto was silent a moment. He wanted to ask after Mokuba, and yet he didn't. Just when the doctor seemed to grow impatient, words tumbled out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through.

"The female survivor is an acquaintance of mine. I know how to contact her family," he lied. "I'd like to see her."

The doctor hesitated for just long enough for concern to bloom. Had something happened to the woman as well, in just the time he'd been in the waiting room?

"I'm not certain that taking visitors would be advised at this time. The patient is recovering from surgery." He didn't seem to be interested in divulging more information. "But if you know some personal details about her, the nurse at the desk would be happy to help you fill out information."

Seto faltered. He hadn't thought his ruse through, and the doctor was turning away.

Seto asked, thinking quickly, "Where can I find her after she's rested?"

Dr. Marangoz blinked, studying Seto a little more closely. "What relationship do you have with the patient?"

Seto was caught in a trap again, but he answered as quickly as the words came to him.

"We're old friends."

"May I ask the patient's name?"

"Kisara," Seto answered without missing a beat. The answer surprised himself, but Dr. Marangoz scribbled something on a notepad he pulled from the pocket of his white coat.

"I see. Thank you."

Seto's mind whirred while he tried to think of what the woman's last name could be, or some excuse for why he didn't know it, but much to Seto's relief Marganoz didn't ask any more questions.

"Usually only immediate family members would be allowed visiting rights, but… given the situation, the hospital is prepared to make arrangements. If family does not arrive by the time she recovers from the operation, you will be permitted to visit with her. She'll be moved to the ICU on the floor four."

Seto thanked the doctor and made to return to the waiting room, neglecting to fill out the paperwork he'd agreed to. But when he rounded the corner he stopped, out of view of the doctor and nurse's station and just down the hall from the waiting room. He idly checked his watch, then pulled out his phone and pretended to scroll through messages.

When the elevator door Marangoz had come from chimed, he listened for it to open and close again. Peeking around the corner, he found the nurse's station empty as well.

Seto ducked down the hall and climbed the staircase.

The fourth floor hallway was clear of hospital personnel, and Seto added "understaffed" to his list of points against the shabby hospital. He peeked in each of the rooms as he passed them, and when he found the woman with silver hair, he turned the doorknob without knocking.

The woman lay stretched on a flat bed, her eyes closed and her long hair a tangled mess. Wires ran under the neck of her hospital dress and tubes were taped to her arms. She was either asleep, or pretending to be. Seto was sure she'd be tired of doctors and reporters already, but he didn't care.

He stood at the foot of her bed, watching her chest rise and fall. An oxygen mask covered her nose and mouth. A clipboard was stationed at the foot of her bed with a medical chart attached. Seto grabbed it and glanced over the paper.

The chart listed the patient's name as Kisara, and he wondered whether Dr. Marangoz had added the name in the few minutes before Seto had made it up to the room, or if she had given him the name herself. Seeing the name listed on her chart didn't confirm anything.

The chart, as well as Seto could read the Russian, said that she had suffered several broken bones, severe smoke inhalation, and various internal damage. She'd been in and out of surgery twice already.

Seto put the clipboard back. His eyes washed over her body. She certainly was pretty, even in her broken state, but that prettiness was tainted by his memories. He knew without a doubt that this girl was the spitting image of the ancient peasant girl from Egypt, even if he wasn't sure if that woman had existed.

Looking at her brought up the same intense sense of sorrow he'd felt when he'd had his first vision of Kisara. No matter how many times he tried to tell himself that that hallucination wasn't a real vision back in time, the emotions they stirred were unforgettable. Adding his hatred to the mix brought on a confusing combination.

Seto turned to the door to leave, but from his peripherals he saw the girl stir, and he startled.

Seto Kaiba wasn't a man to easily startle. Something had nestled its way into his mind—whether is was guilt over his intrusion or an insecurity of the way she made him feel—he _reall_ _y_ hadn't wanted her to know he was there. Not yet.

Not until he figured out what to say to her. Not until he found a way to make her _feel_ what he was trying so desperately not to feel.

Seto knew, in his more rational thoughts, that this woman wasn't directly responsible for Mokuba's death. But he decided nevertheless that it was his responsibility to hold her to a new standard of life. Since Mokuba would never take another breath again, then this women owed it to the almost fifteen-year-old to make the rest of her life worthy of his sacrifice.

He didn't care about the rest of the dead as much he was certain would be expected of him. Even the men he had lost in the flight were replaceable pawns in Mokuba's wake. It was _his_ life Seto expected her to replace.

 _To... replace_? Seto flinched. Where had _that_ thought come from? What did it even mean? Seto felt a sudden anger welling up inside him.

Nobody, for as long as Seto could live, would _ever_ replace his dead brother. Nobody else had clung to Seto's coattails during the freefall that was his childhood. Nobody would ever come close to earning the respect, and _love_ , he devoted to Mokuba, simply because he had been there. His only ally.

Seto wanted to shake his head, that universal of motions people used to clear their minds, to switch gears, but he didn't. The woman was staring at him. She was smiling. She must have been on some great painkillers to appear so serene, Seto thought.

"Do I know you?" the woman asked quietly.

He didn't even think about lying to her. Telling her that he must have entered the wrong room by mistake didn't enter his mind. He simply stood quietly, returning her gaze, fighting to find some balance between the hatred he wanted to feel for her, and the sorrow that was trying to overpower it.

"We haven't met," Seto finally answered. He wasn't quite certain whether or not he believed his own words. "I heard there was a survivor from the crash. I wanted to see for myself."

This information seemed like news to her.

"I... I was the only one?" She croaked quietly. "Have all of the passengers been found?"

"Not all of them, I believe. But you're in the best shape of them all thus far. I don't think the paramedics have much hope for finding anyone else alive."

"That's awful."

"I came in here to see for myself," he repeated. After a beat of silence, Seto spun on his heel and exited the room.

* * *

In the waiting room again, Seto had sent Isono on a coffee run to rid himself of the man's fidgeting. Seto himself stayed at the hospital only for a lack of anything else to do. He sat by himself, browsing absently through his email on a portable device, when his patience finally wore thin.

"Why on earth is this taking so long?" he seethed, catching the eye of the woman at the nurse's station.

It was then that a band of more unexpected visitors came trailing through the building.

"Where do you think they're keeping her?" came a familiar voice. Seto set down his phone and rose to his feet.

"We'll have to ask a nurse," came another. The group was unmistakable now.

Yugi was the first to enter the hospital waiting room, but the rest of his usual band followed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. When Seto spoke, he felt surprised to hear that there was no life in his voice.

Seto was also surprised, though he realized he shouldn't be, to see that Yugi had a twin on his heels. The man behind him was a pinch taller, and more upright in stature.

"Kaiba?" Atem asked. He looked just as surprised to see Seto, in this hospital so far from home. "I could ask the same."

Seto sat back down. He knew then that the motley crew hadn't come to see Mokuba. For that, they would have had to be told what had happened. They must have known someone else on the plane. Nearly all of the passengers all hailed from Domino, so he supposed it was possible. Seto's mind flashed briefly to that woman, but he pushed thoughts of her away.

"Kaiba, you're here because of the airplane crash, aren't you?" Atem asked, while Anzu stepped away to speak to someone at the front desk. "Did someone you know...?" Atem let the question hang.

Seto thought about answering when Isono returned with coffee Seto didn't really want to drink, but he took it anyway. The heat of the cup felt better on his fingers, where he couldn't quite rub away the feeling of Mokuba's skin.

"The aircraft belonged to my company. It was headed to Germany," Seto decided to say. "I had a team flying to Munich to negotiate a partnership with Schroeder Corp. Several of my men were aboard."

"A terrible event has occurred," Atem said. "I'm certain your company will suffer for the loss. I'm so sorry."

"You're _sorry_? What a stupid thing to say," he muttered.

Atem furrowed his brows. "Excuse me?"

Seto expected him to sound offended, but Atem didn't. Confused or surprised, perhaps. Maybe he hadn't expected Seto to sound so bitter.

He didn't want _them_ to know he had a reason to be. He didn't want anyone to know. It was enough to deal with Isono's apologetic glances. Seto didn't believe that anyone else had a right to grieve his baby brother. That sorrow should belong to himself alone—when the time came to allow himself to feel anything.

Anzu grabbed Atem's shoulder. She pointed down the hall and tried to tug him along.

"I _am_ sorry for your loss, Kaiba," he reassured.

The group was out of sight only a few seconds when Seto stood up again. He tossed the untouched coffee in the trash and followed them.

He hurried up the stairs until he reached the fourth floor. There he rounded a corner in the hallway just in time to see a door close further down, the same door he had passed through earlier. He found he wasn't surprised at all.

Seto didn't dare enter the woman's room again; especially not with an audience. Allowing Yugi—along with his other half—to see him interact with the woman wasn't something he needed right then. He'd sought only confirmation. _They_ knew her, so of course _she_ was connected to them somehow. By extension, she was connected to _him_.

How could he not hate her for that? However the woman had ended up existing in his life in the present moment, Seto could only take it as a reminder of confusing, awkward, unbecoming times in his life.

And she linked him again to those dweebs he could never seem to shake himself of. By extension, she was a reminder of all of the adventures he'd gotten caught up in with them, and some of them were too dark to think on.

But he couldn't help himself. All the times he thought he'd lost Mokuba for good flashed through his mind. Every time, there had been some escape, and somehow Mokuba had been okay. And yet, when Seto hadn't thought Mokuba was in any danger, he was lost.

From a distance Seto stared in through the glass panel in the door and watched the group interact. Yugi was a blubbering mess in seconds, gently leaning over the woman's bed for an embrace. Atem squeezed her hand, holding it a while as though she were a dear friend—not that promotion to that status took very much effort for the Yugi-tachi. Anyone Seto would have considered an acquaintance at best would be considered a dear friend to Yugi, everyone's favorite best-friend.

The interaction, therefore, didn't give him a lot of evidence regarding how important the woman was to Yugi, or how long they'd known each other. But he'd known the group long enough to know that coincidences didn't happen.

It wasn't an accident that this young, pretty woman, with the long silver hair and pleasant pale features, was the spitting image of the woman in those visions. He had been hoping, however, that her presence on the aircraft Mokuba died in _was_ an accident. Now he couldn't be sure of anything.

Seto turned to leave and nearly walked into Doctor Marangoz.

"Ah, I see you've found your friend's room," he said.

Seto leveled a gaze on the man. He stood only a few inches shorter than Seto.

"My name is Kaiba," he said after a pause. "I'm the owner of the aircraft."

"I see," was all Marangoz seemed willing to say.

"My brother wan on the flight. I need to know what's happening with him."

"Ah. I am sorry to—"

Seto held up a hand. "I didn't say that so you can apologize to me. I said it so you can tell me when I get to take him home. I've been waiting for hours with no response from the hospital staff. He's already dead. What use is a hospital to him at this point?"

"We have had a sudden influx of patients, sir, as you understand, and—"

"And most of them were my employees," he seethed. "I know very well how much of an influx you have. That is no excuse to keep a family member of the deceased waiting."

Marangoz cleared his throat, and grumbled something in Russian to quickly for Seto to catch it.

"Where you come from, Mister Kaiba, I expect that this attitude is acceptable to the individuals you command. But this is a _hospital_ , and here, our _patients_ come first. You have already called me away from my work once. Go back to the waiting room. The coroner will be in touch."

Seto fumed as the doctor turned his back on him and continued down the hall.

"Oh, and if you would be so kind," Marangoz called over his shoulder, "as to leave some information about the passengers you knew at the nurse's station, you may very well be able to speed this whole ordeal up."

Though irritated, Seto could see the reasoning behind the doctor's last remark. He dragged his feet on his way back to the waiting room, where he instructed Isono to take care of the task.


	7. Sharp

The hospital arranged rooms for visiting families to spend the night. Seto had been the first to arrive, but a few families had filtered in since. Isono had made all of the necessary phone calls, and informed those who couldn't make a flight that the bodies were due to be transported the next day.

Despite all of Seto's disinformation to the staff regarding the silver-haired woman, she didn't seem to have any family to contact. But the waiting room was filling up with sobbing and nervous relatives. He'd even recognized a few faces from the photographs his employees kept on their desks. He tried hard not to think about what the tragedy would mean for his corporation.

When the announcement was made regarding accommodations in the evening, Seto was the first to his feet

After being shown to a room by a nurse who spoke only Russian, Seto closed his chamber door to the chaos on the other side. The room was small and cluttered—there was a bed and a nightstand with a lamp, but the room looked like it also doubled as a linen closet, piles of bedding and towels stacked in one corner.

But Seto didn't care. The room was cleaner than the waiting room, if not a bit musty, and he was more than relieved by the silence. He changed into a set of night clothes, relieved that he had had an overnight bag packed. He slipped under the covers and lay his head down, feeling his fatigue tugging.

But once he was settled in and ready to rest, sleep did not overtake him. He closed his eyes but did not see darkness; he saw fire, metal, trees. He saw that boy, lying lifeless at his feet.

Once again, Seto could sense Mokuba's cold, rubbery skin against his fingertips, as if he were gently brushing his brother's lifeless arm again. He rubbed his fingers against his blanket, focusing on the texture and friction it created, but the sensation remained; the feeling was creeping just beneath the surface of his skin.

Seto sat upright and flicked on the lamp. He stared at the bare room for a few moments, trying to focus on anything but what his body was feeling. He didn't find anything to hold his attention for long, though, so he laid back down, closing his eyes again. This time, with the light shining over his bed, his mind didn't recreate the images from earlier; he saw nothing but the light red color from the backs of his eyelids.

Seto began to relax, much to his relief. He slipped naturally into his nightly routine of mentally scanning and cataloging his events and obligations for the following day, a habit he'd donned so long ago it had become mechanical instinct.

He reminded himself to send Isono on another coffee run first thing, then check up with the doctors on the boy's condition – and see if he couldn't rattle any more information out of them. He might even stop in to that woman's room to dig for more details. He decided that he would have to try contacting the authorities for insight into the crash. After each reminder, Seto began slipping a little closer to drifting off.

It wasn't until he'd thought to later compose an email for Marketing at HQ to update him on Kaiba Corp's current promotion that the _feeling_ began to seep in. Seto wasn't exactly sure what it was, but it set a heavy weight onto his chest. He tried to tune it out and wrack his mind for anything else he might be forgetting to take care of on the home front.

His mind briefly touched the manor, and the gentle face of Mokuba's favorite maid—a trustworthy, almost motherly sort—suddenly came to mind, and the weight grew heavier.

Someone would have to tell her, if she didn't already know. Seto would have to come home, empty-handed, and…

And…?

What would he do? Not only on the day he returned home, but after? He hadn't allowed himself to think about home, but how could he go back to his regular routine now? He would be alone.

 _Alone_.

The word struck Seto like a hammer to the skull.

His insides churned and he began to feel queasy. Though Seto hadn't considered stopping to eat much since he'd arrived in the mountains and there was nothing in his stomach, he was presented with an urge to vomit. He forced slow breaths until the need subsided.

His family, his _entire_ family, was now dead. Even his adopted household was no longer living. He would have to return to his mansion and continue his life alone. Gone was the sloppy teenager constantly leaving dishes and snack wrappers in the media room, or blasting his music down the halls so loud Seto often wondered when his brother's eardrums would rupture.

Nobody would be around to tell him to go to sleep when he worked late into the night. It was a habit that used to irritate him, but he knew it would be missed.

Kaiba Manor would return to what it once had been in the days when Seto had hated it, back when the brothers were made to stay in line. Cold, sterile, uncaring. Quiet. The silence was useful, and Seto usually preferred it, but... _never_ at the cost of that sing-song laughter he would never hear again.

And what would become of his work day? Never mind his schedule, but his ethics? Mokuba drove so much of his motivation. Seto himself knew what he wanted from his company and how to get it, but he had always wanted it for _both_ of them. The rewards just wouldn't be the same without his brother to share them with.

The weight was pushing down on his chest so hard he couldn't breath right, and he tasted bile at the back of his throat. He tossed off the blankets and sat up, clutching at his shirt and trying to force air into his lungs. The weight was chilling, and Seto began to tremble.

He thought he knew death. It had followed him all his life. He thought he knew how to handle this by now. But none of the adults in his life who had been taken from him had ripped his heart out quite like this. It _hurt_. Pain was the only way Seto could describe the feeling. It hurt like nothing he'd ever felt before, and he feared he was beginning to panic.

He rose and shambled to the bathroom, unbuttoning the top of his silk shirt on the way. He turned the faucet to its coldest, strongest setting and splashed the water on his face. The cold helped sober him a little, but the effect wasn't enough to right his breathing. He was about to dunk his head under the faucet, hoping that soaking his hair would help wake him from the panic, but a knock on the door stopped him.

He ignored it at first, taking his time rinsing out his mouth until the sharp taste was cleaned away. But the visitor was insistent. Seto could hear voices from the hallway, indicating more than one offender of his privacy. He splashed more water on his face and dried with a towel. He strode to the door.

"He's not gonna answer," Seto heard one voice say. There was no accent, and it took Seto longer than he ought to to realize that he recognized the voice. It sounded like Wheeler.

"He might," came a smaller sounding voice; Yugi. Another knock came.

"He's not sleeping through this, that's for sure," Joey said. "He's probably ignoring us on purpose."

"Kaiba wouldn't-" Yugi started to say, but stopped.

Seto imagined him on the other side of the door, brows furrowed in thought. Probably realizing—despite his belief that there was some "good" in everyone—that in this case, Joey was right about him. Yugi knocked again.

"We're wasting our time with this guy, Yug'."

Seto felt a dim, mostly detached inclination to smirk. The inclination was easily set aside. He turned away from the door and threw himself back onto the bed, not trying to be quiet. If the crowd outside heard noises of movement, perhaps Yugi would get the point and go away.

Seto's breathing regained a steady, even pace. By the time he finally felt like he was getting enough air again, Yugi had decided to give up and leave with his band of friends. He worked out complicated math problems in his head until he could no longer feel his mental clock ticking away. Time slowed down, and finally disappeared as he drifted into sleep.

* * *

Seto woke to more pounding on his door. He sat up quickly, trying to push away his confusion. He glanced at a digital clock. He hadn't slept more than a few hours, but it was already morning. From the sound of multiple sets of feet shuffling and muffled voices outside his chamber that didn't sound like doctors, Yugi was at it again.

After throwing on a silk robe over his nightclothes, Seto tramped across the floor with bare feet and yanked the door open.

In the hallway Yugi startled. He looked like something heavy was on his mind, but he kept quiet, giving his twin a glance over his shoulder before he seemed ready to speak. His face was downcast, but he seemed to be making an effort to look Seto in the eyes.

"Whatever you want, I wasn't interested last night, and I'm not interested now. Go away."

Seto wasn't willing to hear any protests, but as he began closing the door again, Yugi held it open with an assertive hand. Seto, a little surprised, let himself be stopped.

"Kaiba, we want to talk to you. It's important."

"I'm certain you believe that. I still don't care."

Yugi's face fell, and his eyes were larger and more glassy than usual.

"I heard about Mokuba."

Seto stopped trying to close the door. His blank expression turned into a scowl and he glared at Yugi, at Atem, and at the whole bunch.

"I overheard the doctors talking with Isono. We're so sorry. We didn't know."

"That's because I didn't choose to tell you, just as I'm choosing not to discuss this with you." He tried to make his tone sound assertive and cold, but he only managed to sound dry and monotone.

"Is there anything we can-"

"Don't even finish that question. I'm _not_ interested. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

Yugi shook his head. "That's fine, Kaiba. I'm sorry to have bothered you about it. I wanted you to know that we're here if you… but, never mind. There's one other thing. I want to know what your relationship is with Kisara."

Seto was interested to hear that he was right about her name.

"I have no relationship with her."

Yugi tilted his head curiously. "She mentioned that someone was in her room earlier, and the only person I've seen in this hospital who fits her description is you."

Seto shook his head.

"Kaiba," Atem said, stepping forward. "You might not have realized, but I saw you standing outside her room. We heard you speaking with the doctor in the hall."

"You act like you've seen her before," Yugi said. "Like you've already met."

Seto eyed Atem, who was watching him.

"I saw her at the crash site. There's nothing more that you need to know. Even if there was, what makes you think I would discuss it with you?"

Yugi shrugged. "I guess I just thought that since the last time we saw each other... things might have changed. I thought things _had_ changed."

"By "things", you mean _me_?" He shot daggers at Yugi directly.

Yugi seemed too flustered to speak. His cheeks reddened.

"Whether or not that's accurate," Seto went on, "the information you've heard is true. My little brother just died."

Seto felt the weight pushing on his chest again, even though he was standing. He hadn't said the words out loud before. Speaking them, and hearing them in his own voice, felt too strange. He stifled a shiver and forced himself to continue.

"I really can't bother to care about some girl you happen to be friends with." He was ready to close the door again, but stopped. "But if you do hear anything _useful_ from her, particularly about the crash, then I give you my permission to bring it to me if you must."

Yugi looked back at his friends, noting each of their nods. "Yeah, we'll be sure to pass anything on that sounds useful."

"Fine. Then if that will be all...?" He raised his brows in question. His fingers fidgeted with the door handle. Yugi nodded and Seto didn't wait for him to finish his farewell before he closed the door.

When the room fell silent, Seto almost instantly abandoned the notion of getting back to sleep. He still felt the heaviness in his chest, and his dreams from the night were beginning to come back to him. The sensation sewn to them was dark, and he knew enough to know he didn't wish to remember them.

Even though he'd felt insulted by the visitors' disregard for his privacy, the conversation had given his mind something to focus on. Give the command, dodge the question, hurl an insult. He'd engaged mechanically, but it was something to keep him from focusing too much attention on… recent events.

He tried to say it in his head, but couldn't. Every time the name _Mokuba_ flashed in his mind, he had to fight it back, gloss over it. Ignore it.

He wasn't ready.

So Seto dressed and began the day. His first day… without Mokuba.

* * *

The deceased were prepared for transport to Japan. An aircraft was readied, and the sole survivor of the crash was approved for transfer to the Domino hospital. Though irritated that he had never been contacted directly regarding Mokuba's autopsy, Seto was the first to be notified that the bodies were being sent home.

Though he could have returned to Domino in the jet he flew in on, he was reluctant to be too far from Mokuba's body. He arranged for employees to pick up the fighter, and drop off his rental car.

When the aircraft landed in Domino, Seto was among the first passengers to depart. He shot out of the airplane as if the air inside were poisoning him. He never had cause to fly commercial, and hated every moment of it—most prominently, the lack of anything to keep his mind occupied for long.

Inside the airport, Seto was approached by a man in a long white coat. The man bowed, then offered a hand, and Seto shook it.

"Hello, Kaiba-sama. My name is Tokuma. I had been contacted by Dr. Marangoz. I'm sorry for your loss."

Seto nodded, but didn't respond. He was growing tired and irritated with the phrase already, and it had only been two days. His stomach plummeted at the thought that he might be bombarded by cards and flowers when he returned home.

"I'll handle everything from here, sir. I'll come to you with any paperwork involved, and you can begin making arrangements."

The doctor didn't say it, but Seto knew he referred to arrangements for Mokuba's funeral.

He noticed Yugi and Atem strolling shoulder to shoulder off the plane, the rag-tag group of friends following behind.

"Was there anything else, Tokuma?" he asked as a means to end the dialogue.

"No, sir. I understand you must have a lot to handle right now. I won't keep you."

The doctor bowed low, and Seto walked away.

* * *

It didn't take long for Seto to track down the strange woman from the aircraft. He had been right about her name, but didn't let the fact that he had no surname for her stop him. The Domino City Hospital's staff neither stopped him nor questioned his demands. It relieved him to return to familiar territory, where he knew his name would be respected.

Seto realized he was wandering when he found himself in an unfamiliar hallway, staring through a large window into the nursery. He blinked, then resigned himself to watching the newborn babies sleep in their individual beds. Each infant had a blue or pink colored tag on its foot.

One particular young child caught his eye. The baby had a pink tag on her foot, but her hair was as black and full as he remembered Mokuba's when he was a newborn. Memories Seto hadn't conjured in years began to surface in a flood, followed by emotions he wasn't sure what to call, let alone how to use.

Seto wanted desperately to break his gaze and walk away, but he felt like his eyes were locked onto the image of that young child. She didn't share many of the facial qualities that Mokuba had had as an infant, but the hair was what stuck out most vividly in those memories of his early life. Memories from when their mother's death was so recent it hadn't even struck Seto's five-year-old mind that she was gone forever.

Seto remembered the sunken face of his father a few hours after they'd heard the news. He had been quiet and resigned toward Seto for the first few days, but that time quickly stretched into months, and then years. The loss had broken him. He had never been the same strong man again. And after _his_ death, the latter was what Seto remembered most.

Seto refused to be that weak. Simple principle was the reason that came to mind first, followed by the mechanical fact that he had too much to do to shut down like his father had. He remembered watching the grief settle slowly into everything his father did.

It quickly became clear to Seto, even at his young age, that his father had begun to care less, about everything. Probably, Seto always figured, he could have paid more attention to the road if he'd cared more. Perhaps he might still be alive.

Seto couldn't let himself end up like that.


	8. Hatred

Seto was about to turn around to leave the nursery wing when he noticed someone else step up beside him; a middle-aged woman wearing a hospital gown beneath a white robe, with padded socks on her feet.

"Is one of them yours?" she asked through a tired smile.

"No."

"That's probably for the best. You look young. There's no harm in waiting a while. They can be a real handful."

Seto was surprised the woman didn't seem to recognize him; she was studying his face. He wasn't used to going anywhere in Domino where he could remain anonymous.

"I know," he said. "I helped raise one."

"Oh? A boy or a girl?"

She sounded genuinely interested, and he decided to indulge her. "A boy."

"How old is he now?"

He could have told her the truth, that he was only in the building for that boy's autopsy and his age didn't matter anymore, but he chose to play it out for a while.

"Fourteen. Fifteen next month."

"My, you must have started young!"

"I did what I had to," Seto said before he realized how clipped his response sounded.

"We all do what we have to for our children." The woman grinned, then pointed to one of the cribs. "I just gave birth to another, myself. See the little thing in the back corner? He's my third."

"Congratulations," Seto said.

He didn't say it just because he thought it was expected. He made himself consciously note the birth of a new human being into the world, and his luck of being born to such a joyful mother. For all of Seto's faults and his cold attitude toward most people, Seto would be the first to admit he tended to like children.

"Thank you." She smiled and moved closer to the door into the nursery. "Would you like to hold him?"

Seto stared at the woman. She certainly looked like she might have recently given birth. He noticed for the first time that she had an IV in her arm, and was toting the drip bag around on a wheeled metal pole that she was also using to keep herself steady on her feet. He couldn't figure out why she would ask him such a question.

He also couldn't figure out a response other than to go along while she trudged into the room.

Seto tore his eyes away from the sleeping infant cradled in his arms when he noticed a nurse wheeling a patient past the large viewing window. He knew innately who it was before he even looked up, the realization making him shiver. She saw him the moment he raised his head.

At the patient's request the nurse pushed her chair into the doorway of the nursery. She was smiling, though Seto wasn't sure if it was aimed at the baby, or at himself.

"It's a beautiful sight," Kisara offered quietly to the mother, "to see a strong man caring for a delicate child."

The mother grinned gleefully. She stroked her child's hair.

Now that the pale woman was so close, Seto took notice of a piece of jewelry she wore; a tiny amulet hung on a silver chain around her neck and rested neatly on her chest. The tiny item seemed to draw him in. He knew immediately that he'd seen it somewhere before, but suddenly he couldn't remember where.

He became overwhelmed by the sensation of hard stone beneath his knees. Some kind of light was emanating from the item. He was aware of the weight in his arms, but it felt much heavier than an infant should feel.

Most noticeable was the simple, painful emptiness in his chest. Sorrow bubbled over until it was all he could feel. He no longer remembered the padded chair he sat on, or the sterile smell of the hospital. He didn't remember that he was even holding a child until the tiny baby jerked, and Seto was forced back into reality. He compensated for the baby's movement to keep him balanced in his arms.

He blinked, and realized at once that his eyes felt damp. He wasn't _crying,_ he insisted, though the sorrow hadn't faded. But for the first time in over twenty-four hours, Mokuba was the last thing on his mind.

"Where did you get that necklace?" Seto found himself asking.

She wore a cast on one leg, extending up to her hip. The chair she sat in braced it in an elevated position. Her arm on the same side was in a sling, but wasn't in a cast. A broken clavicle, Seto considered. She had deep purple bruises across her opposite shoulder and down her arm, but her face was remarkably untouched, save for a small set of scratches on her left cheek.

A smile still played on Kisara's lips. She raised her eyebrows at his question.

"Someone special gave it to me. Do you like it?" She reached up a hand and wrapped it lovingly around the pendant.

Seto was taken aback by the question. He wasn't admiring the pendant's beauty, although it did look like a masterfully crafted piece of jewelry. He didn't bother answering. The child wiggled and scrunched in his arms, looking suddenly restless, although he hadn't even opened his eyes. Seto stood up and handed the baby back to his mother. He mumbled "thank you," with a bow of his head and stepped past her.

"Do you two know each other?" the mother asked casually. She touched a pointed finger to the baby's nose and cooed.

Seto stopped, and slowly glanced at Kisara. He said, "Yes."

Kisara was shaking her head "no". Seto snorted indignantly and drifted out of the room without another word.

* * *

Seto approached the nurse's station of the Domino hospital, a much cleaner facility than the one near the crash site. He intended to request the release forms he knew he needed to move Mokuba's body, but a deep voice pulled his attention away before he reached the desk.

"You _do_ realize who she is, do you not?"

Seto didn't jump; he only realized how unsurprised he was at the other's presence. He took his time answering.

Atem stood leaning with his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"You should know by now that I don't buy into everything you say or believe. But I know who you expect me to think she is. I remember where I've seen her face before." The bitter tone to his voice told Atem much more than Seto had meant to say.

"Could it be jealousy I hear in your words?"

"I feel no jealousy toward her for my own sake."

Atem nodded. "For him, then?"

Seto chose not to answer.

"Kaiba, you know that isn't fair. It isn't her fault that she lived and he... did not."

Seto settled onto a hallway bench, glad that the hospital hallway wasn't populated, and let his shoulders slump—a rare act, especially with an audience.

"I suppose you feel inclined to lecture me on the perils of giving in to my hatred?" His own voice sounded hollow when it reached his ears.

Atem sighed, then shook his head.

"No, Kaiba. I have no desires to taunt you, or your pride, with my point of view today. Not only have you heard it all from me before, but... you have suffered a great loss. I don't wish to burden you further with guilt. My only wish is that you might have let me hear the news from you."

"Why would that have mattered?" Seto asked plainly.

Atem growled. "Kaiba, why can't you ever let anyone into your life? Don't you see I am trying to be a friend to you? Yet you thwart me at every turn! You always have."

"Mokuba's death is my concern to bear alone. I didn't feel the need to share the information. I am in no need of a shoulder to cry on."

"I never meant to suggest that you are. But it would have meant much to me to see you lean on someone for once."

"And, of course, who else would that somebody be but you?" he scoffed. "I'm so pleased to know how concerned you are over the travesty that has taken place. Our country has lost nearly three dozen citizens. What a relief it is to know that your concern is being directed at others, instead of just yourself," Seto bit out.

"Kaiba... I don't mean to be self-centered about this. Please don't misunderstand me. I know you're bitter that the one person who survived the incident wasn't Mokuba. But allowing yourself to wallow in this anger isn't doing anybody favors, nor is it any less self-focused than what I've said. Don't make yourself out to be a martyr because you've suffered a loss. Kisara may not have died but she has suffered, and the pain of my friends I make my own."

"You insist that some sort of "change" has taken place in my life. I have no doubt that you even pride yourself on this change. Tell me honestly, Atem. Are you convinced that you had something to do with my current way of thinking? Have you deluded yourself into believing that you have _fixed_ me?"

Atem's jaw worked to answer, but no words came out.

"Listen to me. You may have spoken true words during our match in Battle City years ago. But Mokuba was the one who made me _hear_ them. You can't take credit for that. My brother laid the groundwork for my trust in him ever since he was old enough to know who I am. When he showed that he was upset at me for my actions and my words, my eyes opened. _He_ opened them. Not you."

Seto stood up and walked the length of the hallway, until reaching a set of double doors. But he didn't leave—he held it open, and waited for the other man to catch on and send himself away.

"You and I were never friends. It's about time you finally learned that."

Atem didn't move from his spot against the wall.

"If we aren't friends, Kaiba, then why have you spent so much time speaking with me so amicably as of late? If the only person on the planet that you care about is the one you've lost, then why have you even bothered to give me the time of day?"

Seto realized he didn't have an answer to the question. Instead he decided to change the subject. Realizing that Atem wasn't going anywhere, he let the door slam with an echoing clatter.

"How did you meet her?"

"Kisara? I haven't known her long, myself."

Seto didn't answer, his intense glare giving Atem incentive to go on.

Atem shrugged. "Yugi was already friends with her when I came back. I've been staying with Yugi and his family, and he often has company. She was invited, along with the rest of our friends."

"What did you think when you first saw her? Did you recognize her immediately?"

"Of course. My first thought was of you, actually."

"I find that disconcerting."

Atem smiled. "You do cross my mind on occasion, after all. I'm a little insulted that that unnerves you."

"Then be insulted. I'm talking about _her_ right now, not you."

"Fine. As I said, I recognized her as the girl from ancient Egypt, who harbored the spirit of—"

"That's enough," Seto waved. "I don't need to hear you go through all of that again."

"Very well. I recognized her, and when I asked Yugi about her, he told me she was new in Domino."

"So he hasn't known her very long, either?"

"I suppose not."

"The timing of all this makes me suspicious." He eyed the shorter man. "You asked me if I know who she is. Are you implying that you think that woman from those visions has something to do with me?"

He seemed to realize what he'd asked just as the words left his mouth. Atem's only response was a knowing smirk.

"Of course you're implying _that_. But I thought all of that junk was over and done with. All I want to know is, why now?"

"Do I believe this young woman has a connection with someone we've both seen from ancient Egypt? Yes. And do I believe that the same woman has a connection with you? Of course."

Seto looked like he was suppressing a snarl.

"And what do you know about these connections?"

"Nothing more than you do, I'm afraid." Atem leaned back and sighed. "I think I see what you're seeing in Kisara. But I also see what this is doing to you, Kaiba."

Seto eyed his rival. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're into this situation too deeply. I think you need to take a step back."

"How _exactly_ do you expect me to do that?" Seto's tone was sharp and practiced, but his sunken eyes and deep-set frown made him look desperate.

"Do something with your time. Something to clear you mind for a little while."

If someone had said that to him when he was stuck following Yugi into Egypt the year before, he would have done so cheerfully. But tying Mokuba into the events tied him in as well, and he couldn't see a means for escape.

"I can't afford to do that right now."

"I don't think you can afford _not_ to. I'm sorry to say this so coldly, Kaiba, but Mokuba is gone." Seto's eyes narrowed instinctively, but Atem held up a hand. "I mean you no offense. Kisara is recovering. Wouldn't questioning her prove more useful when she's well again? Why do you cling to the need to hash this out right now?"

 _Mokuba is no longer in danger_ , Seto thought. Atem was right; his frenzied attempts to wring information out of the mystery woman were only so desperate because he needed a distraction.

Was he so fearful of becoming like his father?

After a deep sigh, Seto allowed himself to ask, "What do you suggest?"

Atem smirked.

"We had a date in the arena, did we not."

Seto didn't grin or smirk. No glint sparkled in his eyes. He nodded numbly, and walked through the doors.


	9. This Was A Simple Design

A/N: I had meant to make a note of this earlier, the one big downfall of trying to avoid inserting author's notes. I am so thankful to anyone out there, reading and reviewing for me. I just needed to take a moment to appreciate my audience. I know this isn't the lightest, fluffiest story, and writing it does slice open my chest a bit. But thank you to those who are sticking this out and making it worth the pain.

(Just a note: I've given some minor editing to this chapter in regard to setting.)

~omgagr

* * *

Seto Kaiba pushed double doors open wide with his long arms and strode with heavy footsteps into the makeshift stadium. It hadn't taken much to gain clearance to the hospital's parking garage. Spotlights flashed on all around him. At his demand, tech specialists had quickly set up the light system and several cameras and microphones to record and broadcast the duel as it played out.

A duel for the ages.

The familiar rush of blood, the bubbling excitement, and the steely determination flooded him. The sensations had become so deeply ingrained that Seto so instinctually knew the feeling, even the sounds and smells that came with the arena.

So when Seto felt his coattails fanned out fiercely behind him in the wind, and all he could hear was the echo of a single set of footsteps, Seto whirled around. The absence of Mokuba's eager footsteps traipsing behind him sounded so odd, so off that he couldn't imagine a reason for the lack.

For just a moment, Seto expected to hear the sound of Mokuba's feet slamming against the concrete, hastily trying to catch up. Until he remembered.

The frown set in a hard line on his face, and he steeled himself for the battle that lie ahead of him. Seto moved to his place across the arena from the current King of Games.

Both men, now sporting KaibaCorp.'s newly improved duel disks, stood opposite one another on the ground floor of the large garage. A circular ramp ran upward and downward to access the next levels of the large structure. Every spoken word, every scrape of a sole against the cement, was amplified and echoed through the great, hollow hall. This gave the stadium – now empty save for a few parked cars, the duelists, Atem's fan club, and a few tech team stragglers – a powerful, booming aura. As the two duelists settled into position, nobody spoke a word.

Yugi, Jounouchi, Honda and Anzu stood along the ramp above and behind Atem. Yugi was the first to break the dramatic silence as he began shouting down his own words of encouragement.

"You can do this, Atem!"

"Yeah!" Honda chipped in. "Wipe the floor with him!"

"Man, it's been a while since we've seen these guys butt heads like this," Jounouchi said aloud, not really speaking to anyone in particular.

"I gotta say," Honda spoke up, "Odd as it sounds, I think I kinda missed it." Nods of agreement circled through the party.

"Ya know, guys," Jounouchi drawled loud enough for the duelists below to hear him, "This duel is gonna be exciting and all, but you should make it more interesting and put something on the line!"

Seto slid his deck into the slot on his duel disk and looked up at the man speaking. "You've got a big mouth for someone who isn't even in the game, Jounouchi!" He shouted back. He got no answer but continued speaking, now looking at Atem. "A wager has already been made."

"It has? I didn't hear about that." Jou looked around at his friends. "What did they wager?" He asked, but they all shrugged their shoulders, except for Yugi.

Looking down solemnly at his partner, Yugi said, "Pride."

"Fair point," Honda nodded.

"Neither of these guys need to have anything else at stake to make this an important duel. They'll both always have their pride and their need to be better than the other."

"Yeah. But the problem is that only one of them can win, so someone's going to have to go home with a bruised ego." Anzu said sadly. "So much for a reunion."

"Well," Yugi reassured. "They both knew that going into this."

"Hmph. It looks like your reign didn't last as long as you thought it might, your _highness_! Blue Eyes Ultimate Dragon, attack Atem's weakened Magician of Black Chaos and take out the rest of his life points!"

"Not so fast, Kaiba! As always, I have just the right card to turn the match around. I activate my face-down card, Mirror Force, sending your attack back at you, wiping out the rest of your life points instead of my own. Sorry to disappoint you Kaiba, but I think I'll be keeping my crown for one more duel."

Seto let his eyes slip closed, but he wasn't bracing himself. He wanted to smirk and betray his final plan, but a sense of solemnity swept over him, leaving nothing but a cold, hard mask. _Mokuba should be here to see me win_ , he thought before he could stop himself. When Seto spoke aloud, his voice came out deep and loud, powerful but lacking his old angry intensity.

"You're as predictable as ever, Atem. I knew you'd try to pull a cheap trick to steal my victory at the last second."

"What are you saying?" Atem growled, paused in his movements.

Seto let the sentence roll around in his head again. _Mokuba should be here to see me win_. The fact that he'd never seen Seto get to shove Atem's face into the dirt like he'd craved had been gnawing at him throughout the duel. Now that he was about to play his winning card, Seto couldn't let his still-raw grief bury him. He forced out a slow breath, then let the winds of his victory carry him.

"So I laid this card down, and I activate it now. Go, Seven Tools Of The Bandit! At the cost of one thousand life points, your trap is negated. I'm left with only one hundred points, but you're left with with no cards in your hand or on the field to protect your weak magician from my attack. Now, my dragon! Bring me my victory!"

Atem grunted in frustration as the blast hit him and his life point counter dropped to zero. The disappointed groans of Atem's friends sang down from the ramp. But Seto had no one to cheer for his victory. In his moment, he allowed himself to be caught up in weakness. He let himself fall back on the tape of old memories.

 _The stadium was brightly lit by the afternoon sun, and a loud rumble of cheers and stomping feet rang from the crowd, chanting his name. A younger Mokuba standing on his sideline leapt up and cheered the loudest. "Yeah! He won!"_

Seto spliced the memories together, laying the soundtrack of the cheers over his surge of elated pride. It was a rough transition – a delusion, he admitted – but Mokuba _deserved_ to be present for this long-sought moment.

When his savoring moment was over, the two men stepped to the middle of the ring. Each looked the other dead in the eye, but Seto offered out his hand. Atem grasped it firmly and shook it, accepting Seto's unexpected gesture.

"Well, Kaiba, how does to feel to be king once again after all these years?" Atem asked, a light teasing tone entering his voice. He didn't appear to be taking defeat very poorly.

Kaiba only smirked, saying, "You're just lucky I'm not going to make you bow at my feet and grovel." He dropped the other's hand. "You gave me a good battle, as always. I must admit, no other opponent has been able to keep me on my toes quite like you do."

Atem nodded with a smirk. "Likewise, my old friend."

The cheering squad caught up with the duelists as the spotlights began to dim. The show was over, and a new king had been crowned. Thanks to the camera crews, now the whole world would know: Seto Kaiba was champion once again.

Seto turned, with a steely glint in his eye, to the exit. He stepped wordlessly away from the small crowd. He'd never felt a more empty victory.


	10. Breath

A/N: Sorry for the intrusion but I realized I had some minor setting details mixed up in the last chapter that have now been edited. One line stated that the facility used for the arena was a parking garage, another said it was on the rooftop. I apologize. The setting for the last chapter and the beginning of this is the ground floor of a parking garage attached to the hospital. (If you're coming along a little later in the game, this is no longer relevant.) Carry on.

* * *

Seto turned to leave the parking garage, striding toward the hospital's glass door entrance. Beside the door stood a man in a long white coat. The man appeared hesitant, and Seto groaned at the thought of dealing with another incompetent doctor.

He just wanted this to end. To bury him and… _eventually_ … move on.

"Seto-sama?" the man asked.

Without answering Seto turned to the nearest tech, who was busying himself with tearing down the lights.

"Are the cameras off?" Seto asked.

"We're done rolling," was the response. "You looked great out there, by the way. Would you like us to send a recording to your office?"

Seto paused, but didn't consider the question. As long as he held the title King of Games in the eye of the public, the duel didn't matter to him. He didn't need a reminder of this day, or what he was distracting himself from. He shook his head.

The doctor stepped toward Seto with some sense of urgency.

"Sir, I am Doctor Himura. I must ask you to come to the intensive care unit at once."

Seto's eyes narrowed. "For what?"

"I think you need to see for yourself."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's happening."

"I would rather show you, sir. I…" he paused to clear his throat. "To be frank, sir, I don't expect you to believe me."

Atem approached behind Seto, but Seto glanced over his shoulder and shot a warning glare at his opponent before addressing the doctor.

"Either tell me what's going on, or get out of my sight."

The doctor was silenced a moment, his lips pursed. Seto shifted in the pause, his paper-thin patience burning into ashes.

Atem's friends whispered in the background. He couldn't make out the words until Anzu asked quietly, "Is this about Mokuba? Or Kisara?"

Seto clenched his jaw, but did not respond to the whispers. Just as he took a step to brush past the doctor, the man spoke up.

"Seto-sama, the patient we have been examining was not—"

" _Which_ patient?" he demanded, realizing he hadn't known the answer to Anzu's question.

Doctor Himura bowed his head. "Your brother Mokuba, sir. He was not delivered to this facility as DOA. We have him connected to the EKG machine."

"What's a DOA again?" Jounouchi asked in the background.

"Dead on arrival," Seto responded without turning around, his eyes locked on the man in the lab coat.

Himura nodded, as if Seto's answer needed to be validated. The thought made him burn.

"I don't know what you're trying to insinuate," Seto said. "Why would he need an EKG?"

"Sir… he has a heartbeat."

It was Seto's turn to be silent, but it only lasted a few beats before his voice came back strong, and _angry_.

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" he hissed.

"It didn't seem likely, but the doctors in Turkey were able to perform—"

"He was dead in my hands! Mokuba was lying cold on the ground for _hours_ before he was taken to the medical station. You expect me to believe that you resuscitated him? I'm _insulted_ at how stupid you must think I am."

"You don't understand, sir. We don't know how it happened, but you really need to come and see for—"

Seto lunged forward, grabbing the doctor by the collar of his shirt, yanking his face an inch from his own.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me what I need to do. I'm the only one who gets to decide that!"

The doctor stammered, unable to form coherent words until Seto threw him backwards in frustration.

Atem was at Seto's side before he could think.

"Kaiba, I know how this must sound to you right now, but you ought to calm—"

Seto spun and jammed a finger in Atem's face.

"If one more person in this crowd tries to tell me what to do, I'll make you regret ever opening your damn mouth."

He spoke the single line with more conviction than anything he had said during his duel.

"My brother's body was supposed to be autopsied and prepared for burial. Even _if_ what you're telling me has some basis of truth, why the _hell_ didn't anyone update me before he was put on the airplane home?"

"I apologize, Seto-sama, but I have no answer. Perhaps the increased intake at the Turkish facility prevented—"

"I don't want to hear your excuses."

"Kaiba," Atem said, placing a hand on Seto's shoulder.

Seto twisted out of the contact, shoving Atem's arm away.

"How was he transported?"

"I don't see the relevance of—Sir, you really ought to—"

Seto gripped the man's collar again.

" _How_ was he transported?!"

"The… the staff was still… conducting procedures… I believe he was flown in a separate medical aircraft."

Seto's hollow breaths became erratic, and he tightened his grip on the Himura's shirt collar until the doctor's face reddened.

"I flew back with the bodies. He was supposed to be on the same aircraft. If he was alive then, why the _fuck_ didn't anyone tell me?"

"Kaiba!" Atem shouted, forcefully inserting himself between Seto and the doctor. "Let him go."

Atem wrapped a hand tightly around Seto's arm, and nodded to Jounouchi to grab the other. Seto tensed at first, but after a breath released his grip on the doctor's shirt.

"Come on man, play nice," Jounouchi said. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to shoot the messenger?"

Seto scoffed, still glaring at Himura. "Messenger? I doubt it. You're lying to me."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Seto-sama," the doctor said, but Seto caught a glint of something in his expression that made him feel uneasy. He shook the two men off his arms.

"Hey, man," Jou said, "Let's check out what this guy's talking about. Maybe he's not lying."

Seto's eyes narrowed to sharpened slits. "Keep your noses out of my personal business. You will not get a second warning." Then he turned to Himura, holding up his fingers and rubbing the tips with his thumb. "I can still feel his skin under my fingertips. His body was beginning to decompose when I found it. You're either lying or misguided, but my brother cannot be alive."

"Please come see for yourself, sir."

Seto made an exasperated gesture to the glass doors. Himura shuffled through the entrance, holding the door open. Seto followed, but when he heard footsteps echoing behind him he shot a glare over his shoulder.

Atem, who stood in the back of the crowd, placed a hand on Jounouchi's shoulder, holding him in place. Seto let the door close behind him.

"I'll go," he said in a low voice Seto could barely make out through the glass. "But he won't want extra company. Go visit Kisara."

Seto heard rushed trotting behind him.

"I'm coming with you, Kaiba," came Atem's voice.

Seto's pace was quick and sure, but the doctor couldn't move fast enough for him. Seto glanced over his shoulder again, slight relief when he saw the rest of the Yugi-tachi loitering in the garage.

Seto didn't want to admit it, not even to himself. But as the man who rivaled him, both on the battlefield as well as in life, followed behind him wordlessly, Seto felt the distinct hitch of a crutch nestling underneath him. He wanted to fight it, and tell Atem to go back to the others. But, he expected, the man would probably keep following him anyway.

So, he let himself lean into his crutch.

* * *

Seto couldn't stop his eyes from wandering to the EKG screen in a far corner of the room. The line was moving at a steady beat. Without so much as glancing at the unmoving body of his brother, he trained his gaze back onto Himura's face.

"You have one minute to explain yourself."

"Sir," a nurse bowed, first to Seto, then to Himura. "I have Marangoz on the phone."

Himura nodded once. "Would you like to speak with him, Seto-sama? He can give you the story from the beginning."

Seto's eyes narrowed. He'd hoped not to deal with that doctor again, but it couldn't be prevented if he wanted his answers. He gave a curt nod.

Himura moved to the phone on the wall, lifted the receiver and punched a button, handing Seto the phone.

"Kaiba," Seto spoke into the receiver.

"Mister Kaiba," came Marangoz's thick accented voice.

Seto's eyes drifted to Atem, and before Marangoz could say anything more, Seto pressed a button to switch the call to speaker.

"I hear you are wanting details on your brother's… ah, situation," the voice came through the speaker, loud enough for the room to hear.

Seto turned to face the speaker of the phone on the wall, glad to have an excuse to turn his back to the hospital bed.

"I'm his guardian. I have a right to this information. I shouldn't have to jump through any hoops to get it."

"I understand, Mister Kaiba," Marangoz said in a slow, placating tone. "Please, though, I ask you to be sensitive to our processing speed due to the tragedy. Some of the details may have been delayed in reaching you."

" _All_ of the details, apparently. Don't ask me to be sensitive to your situation when you've disregarded mine. Just tell me what's going on."

"Yes. The patient was delivered to us in a state we had deemed dead on arrival. He was transported to the morgue with the other passengers and the coroner was to begin the autopsy. This is where he reports that the patient… moved."

"Moved?" Seto mimicked incredulously. "In what manner?"

"The coroner reports that the patient's arm twitched."

"An involuntary spasm. Why would that have stopped the autopsy?"

"The coroner reports that after the twitch the patient's limb moved a second time, lifting off the table and gripping the coroner's hand holding the scalpel."

Seto scoffed. "You expect me to believe any of this?"

"I beg your pardon Seto-sama," Himura commented, "but... I don't see why you wouldn't want to, sir."

Seto eyed the doctor, placing a hand over the microphone. "That's exactly the kind of attitude that has me skeptical."

"You are free to look over the charts if you wish."

Seto dismissed the offered folder. He spared a wary glance at the lump of flesh under the bedsheets, but looked away when he saw the messy dark hair and bandaged face.

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss, Mister Kaiba?" asked Marangoz over the speaker.

"If I require any more information, I'll be in touch," Seto said, and clicked off the call, turning to Doctor Himura. "Has he been conscious, or have you only managed to give him a pulse?"

"He is resting now, but he was awake and speaking earlier."

Seto, with a dangerous glint in his eyes, glared at the man in the white lab coat.

"If that _is_ the case, then I ask again. Why are you only bringing this to my attention now? How long will you doctors keep using the aircraft tragedy as an excuse?"

The nurse spoke up, reminding Seto of her existence.

"Our staff has been working on stabilizing him since his arrival. We didn't want to inform family that the patient is alive before we knew for sure."

Seto admitted to himself that he held a preference for the staff Mokuba the "patient". He couldn't seem to think of the damaged corpse he'd carried away from the crash site as much of a person anymore.

He certainly had a difficult time thinking of it as _alive_.

"You must be absurd to think I'd believe this."

Seto pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number, his eyes hardly leaving the doctor's face. He still couldn't force himself to look at his brother's body.

"Isono," he said after a ring. "I'm with a doctor in the ICU. Meet me here. Third room from the elevator." He snapped the phone closed and spoke to the doctor.

"I am not leaving this hospital without my brother's body. I expect accommodations for the night, if that's what it takes. I should have been home by now."

The doctor bowed low. "As you wish, Seto-sama."


	11. For You, I Might Have Something To Say

"Kaiba, perhaps you can help me understand." Atem said, trying to keep up with Seto's pace as he strode down the sterile hospital hall.

Isono had shown up and Seto left the cramped room as soon as the doctor began explaining his story a second time. He wasn't interested in hearing it again, so he paced.

"Understand what?" Seto asked after a delay.

"I thought you would be overjoyed that Mokuba is alive."

"Mokuba is _not_ alive."

"I don't see where your suspicion stems from. What the doctor said makes sen-"

"What the doctor said was _bullshit_. He was just feeding me a line."

"Again, I don't understand where this is coming from."

The two men reached the quarters the hospital had provided Seto with, and he stopped walking at the door. He hesitated, but after deliberating he decided there wouldn't be much harm to inviting Atem in. He closed the door behind them both.

"You weren't the one who found his body." Seto's voice was low, quieter than he was used to speaking.

Atem was silent, searching Seto's face.

"I heard you say that. I didn't know. I'm so—"

"Stop apologizing," he commanded abruptly, and Atem did his best to nod in agreement. "I may not be a doctor, but I could tell he wasn't breathing. My boy had fallen out of the sky into the face of a mountain, if you want to be dramatic about it. I had no real hope he could have made it through that crash when I saw it on the newsreel."

"Kisara is alive."

"Kisara was lucky. What do you think the odds are of that happening twice in the same crash? Did you see the images on the news?"

"I saw them. But if the doctors were able to get him breathing again—Kaiba, he said that Mokuba was conscious! He said your brother was talking! What if he wasn't lying about that?"

"There's no time to get emotional about this. I _want_ Mokuba to be alive. Of course I do. But for that to happen, that airplane needed to have not crashed. It's already happened, and there's no amount of hoping that can undo it."

"So what _do_ you think has happened?"

Seto was quiet for a while. He kicked off his shoes, slugged off his coat and sat down on the bed.

"I think that this was planned, but from how far back I can't say. The investigation on the crash is still ongoing, but I'll be waiting on the details of how it may have happened."

"Please don't tell me you think that Mokuba, along with nearly everyone else on the aircraft, might have been targeted? That would have to be quite an elaborate scheme."

"Did you _me_ _e_ _t_ the Big Five? My employees, especially the most demented of them, bleed elaborate schemes."

Seto paused, trying to fight the flood of memories that struck him when the Big Five came to mind. Noa Kaiba's childish laughter echoed in his head, freezing his feet in place. He'd never gone back to that island. Had he really ensured that the computer Noa existed in was really destroyed?

He shook his head. Paranoia wouldn't help him now.

"Don't forget," he said, "that I owned the aircraft that crashed. All of the workers on board were men and women I employed. I believe I need to be focusing on what this doctor wants me to do, and what I ought to be doing instead."

"And where does that leave you now?"

"I think I'm supposed to believe what the doctor is telling me."

"Supposed to? According to whom?"

"Himself, of course. And whoever he's working with, or working for."

Atem let out a grim chuckle.

"You always seem to see the whole world as an enemy. What makes you think these doctors have anything to gain by deceiving you?"

"Almost everyone has something to gain by deceiving me. It just so happens that I'm too cynical for many of them to be capable of succeeding. In this particular case, it would not be the first time that my own employees have tried to stab me in the back. I just need to know what Doctor Marangoz and Himura are up to."

"Since you clearly _don't_ believe what the doctor is telling you, then what do you believe?" Atem gestured wide with his arms. "What is your grand theory on all of this, Kaiba? Do you think he's setting you up to believe that Mokuba is still alive because the illusion will serve him somehow?"

"Mokuba had been used as a pawn to get to me more times that I would like to count. It wouldn't surprise me that, even in my brother's death, someone is willing to use him to get something from me."

"To get what from you, exactly?"

"What these people always want: money, power, revenge. Maybe some combination. Because, somewhere in the thought process of these _masterminds_ , they expect that when my brother is put in danger I'll turn into any other important man with a knife to his family's throats, blubbering and shaking and pouring out the contents of my bank accounts at the robber's feet."

Atem found a sly smirk gracing his lips.

"But Seto Kaiba doesn't act that way."

"I can't afford to let myself get swept up in the notion of something that defies what I've seen with my eyes and felt with my own hands. I know my brother is dead. I knew that well before I found his body. Whatever these medical geniuses are trying to cook up against me, I can't allow it to work."

"It's no wonder you can't allow yourself to call anyone your friend."

Seto's gaze shot up to Atem's face and his eyes narrowed.

"Don't start."

Atem put his hands up in surrender.

"I'm not starting anything. But I suppose I don't mind suggesting, since we're on the subject, that I never sought any of those things from you, regardless of how you may have seen my intentions. I do hope you know that."

"No, of course you didn't. You just irritated me to the point where I'd wished you had, so I had a better excuse to put you out of my misery."

Despite his words, Seto quirked the faintest of smiles.

"Kaiba, you can try to fight me for as long as you want. But I'm not going away again any time soon. I hope you know you can trust me. No matter what you think of me, I consider you a friend."

Seated on his bed, Seto stared at the floor between his feet.

"...I know."

Atem chuckled. "Good. Now that that's out of the way, I hope you'll take my attempts to assist you somewhat seriously." Before Seto could speak, Atem waved his hand. "I'm not interested in hearing you tell me that you don't need any help. Your brother was dead, and now you need to figure out whether or not that still holds true. Holding a prideful grudge against me will only get in your way right now."

Seto breathed a deep sigh and stood up from his mattress.

"That is, more or less, what I was going to say."

* * *

I noticed a pattern in Atem's behavior as of late. He shared expressions of concern with Isis when he seemed to think that I wasn't watching. But when I noticed the glances being shared between himself and wider range of my royal court, my uneasiness deepened.

I stayed up later into the night, listening at my window for footsteps in the courtyard below. I didn't hear them often, but on the occasion that I did I was quick to follow. I found myself stalking the people I was supposed to trust, and finding that trust growing shallow as I witnessed the secret visit to the courtyard.

Atem nodded grimly, in response to a statement I had been too late to hear. "I understand. I will do what you need in order for this to work."

I hadn't been standing behind the bushes long this night, but I had a mind to burst into the scene and demand an explanation for the secret meeting. Something about my adviser's grim expression made me stay in the shadows. I felt as though I were more likely to hear the truth secretly than directly.

I realized that I could have felt threatened by the secret activity, but—though still strongly suspicious—I didn't allow myself to. If these three had been plotting against me personally or planning an attack, Isis would not have had to announce that I not be told during the first meeting I had overheard.

I reasoned that it must be something they knew I would want to get involved in, and for whatever reason, Isis insisted that I oughtn't. If only I had shown up sooner...

"Why would you be concerned about our King?" Shada asked. He sat beside Isis, twirling his Key in his fingers.

"Haven't you noticed how he's changed?" Atem suggested.

"He's Pharaoh now. Why shouldn't he be a different person?"

"No," Isis chimed in. "Shada, listen to what our Prince has to say."

Atem nodded. "Set's previous office was High Priest, the highest position of authority on the Pharaoh's Royal Court. He handled his office justly and with passion. He would do the same as King of Egypt. A higher rank shouldn't alter his personality _this_ much."

"I guess you're right," Shada said. He turned to Isis. "Still, I don't see how you expect this to work. How can I use the magic of my key without the subject before me?"

"This is an experiment, Shada," Atem answered. "I would like to use our items together, combining their powers."

"This has never been done before. It could be dangerous."

"Perhaps. But with the power of the items fading as they are, the danger is lessened. But that is why we must act quickly, before the magic fades completely."

"You really believe this has to do with the Pharaoh's condition?" Shada asked.

"I do. Egypt's king effects the flow of power through these items in an astounding way, and the reverse can also be said."

Shada nodded, then turned to Isis again. "Have you used your tauk to see how this will play out?"

"You know it doesn't work that way, Shada. My tauk shows me what I need to see, not necessarily what I want to see."

"And it showed you that the Pharaoh needs us to do this? Isis, this feels like treason."

"We've all seen how Priest Aknadin behaved when he took for himself a taste of the throne." The gathering was silent. Even Mana seemed to have nothing to say. "I realize it has been pushed under the rug, but we all heard Aknadin announce that Set is his son. If pushed to the wrong limits, I fear Set may become more like his father than any of us—including the Pharaoh Set himself—wish to see."

"I still don't see how what we're doing will help with that," Shada protested.

"Atem was the first to notice our Pharaoh's odd behavior as of late, and the first to pin down the reason. He believes that our Pharaoh's soul is in mourning. I must say I agree," Isis explained.

"This has to do with that girl who unleashed the White Dragon, doesn't it?"

"I believe it does," Atem answered.

"But... she died. How can we use her to help the Pharaoh now?"

"I have a belief," Atem said, "that the two souls are searching for each other, even through the afterlife. I believe they are trying to find their way together. If we can help them do that—if not in this life, than perhaps in another—Set's soul might be at peace here."

"We're going to try to use our items to play with the future, is that it?"

"Exactly," Atem said, a smirk spreading across his face.

"When do we start?" the magician girl asked.

"I will need to gather certain tools. It will take some time. When everything is ready, I will let you know."

Before I could glean any more answers, the three gatherers rose and dispersed. None of them, of course, came my way. The only destination in my direction were my royal quarters, and none of them had reason to go.

When the three had disappeared from view, I moved into the clearing by the fountain where they'd sat and settled in myself. I wasn't certain how to feel about the meeting I'd just witnessed. But with so little information, I didn't have many actions to choose from. I decided that I wouldn't act at all, for the time being. I would watch those three, and anyone they came into contact with outside of official business.

* * *

A/N: I get some of my chapter titles from lines in songs. This one is a mangled line from Chevelle's "Dos". The connection may be vague, but I always think of Kaiba and his relationship with Yugi and Atem when I hear the song. That through everything, they always have his back. ("Upon themselves, showed up again.") Even against his will, sometimes.


	12. Awakened

Seto stood outside the room, knowing that on the other side of the door lay his brother's body. He shifted slightly so he could peer through the tall window next to the door, at an angle where he could see into the room but not be seen by anyone inside. He could only see the body's feet.

He believed it should have been embalmed already. Mokuba should be laying in a case in transport to the Domino City Funeral Home, not rotting in a hospital bed. Seto shifted himself closer to the door frame so he could see through another window, giving him a view of the head of the bed.

Mokuba was sitting up. His eyes were open, and his mouth was in motion. Seto could see only the edge of a white coat, and he wondered how many people were in the room.

Seto tried to lean in closer, that he might be able to hear what was being said, but it seemed the door was too thick. He wondered if the particular room was furnished with soundproof insulation. It didn't ease his suspicions. Seto leaned in to knock, but hesitated, unsure he wanted to step into the scene. He wanted to spy, but he couldn't hear.

He glued his eyes to the sight of his brother—dead in his arms only days ago—sitting up in bed and speaking. A cold chill settled in his spine.

The large bruise on Mokuba's cheek was bandaged, but it still showed around the edges. His hair was a mess and his skin was an odd gray pale he wasn't used to seeing, but the boy resembled Mokuba in every way Seto could think of.

He'd considered advanced robotics as a method of his body being duplicated, but the motions he saw were too fluid to be a machine. He also considered that he might be looking at a hologram. He couldn't pin down just yet whether or not he was. Not without some kind of audio sample.

Seto clenched his fists. He put his hand to the door handle and invited himself in. Three sets of eyes were on him. Mokuba's eyes were as wide as his grin.

"Nii-sama!" he called gleefully.

The doctor, with whom Mokuba had been conversing, stood by his bedside. A nurse stood on the other side of the bed, in a corner where Seto couldn't have seen her. She began setting up a tray of food over Mokuba's lap. Some of Mokuba's favorites were on the tray, down to the flavor of Jell-O he preferred.

He dipped the plastic spoon the nurse handed him into the Jell-o first. He ate it.

"You must have been hungry," the doctor chuckled.

Seto didn't respond to Mokuba's greeting. He watched him, eating regular food like a regular person. Even the fact that he could pick up the spoon in the first place struck Seto's hologram theory down.

"Nii-sama? Is everything okay?" Mokuba asked between bites. "I was hoping I would have seen you earlier." The voice was perfect, though a little raspy. A little smile played on his lips.

Seto ignored Mokuba and faced the doctor.

"I just had to see for myself. I don't know what game you're trying to play, but I'm going to find out."

Seto turned and walked out of the room. He didn't bother to close the door behind him, and he could hear Mokuba's voice trailing after him.

Another set of footsteps joined his in the quiet hallway. Seto heard them before he saw who they belonged to, but he could expect well enough.

"Don't ask me how it went," Seto warned.

Atem caught up with Seto's pace and walked beside him.

"Then I won't. But I am interested."

"I'm sure. You've just come from visiting _her_?" he spat, as if he couldn't be bothered to even use her name.

"Kaiba. You can't keep holding a grudge against her simply for living. If I know my friend at all, I would say that if she had known, she would have given up her chance to Mokuba—or anyone else on that aircraft."

"It's more complicated than just a grudge."

At some point, Seto realized he didn't have a clear destination in mind. When he reached an intersecting hallway, he made a snap decision and turned left.

"He was sitting up," Seto finally indulged. "He was speaking. He was _eating_."

Atem started to offer a smile, but it turned into a frown instead.

"And you still don't believe it's really him."

"If there's a chance it really is him, then I can't be hasty. What I really burn to do is put a stop to this whole operation. If I didn't have any doubts, I could act."

"And how would you act?"

"If I knew, beyond doubt, that what's been brought to life _isn't_ him, then I would put a bullet in his head, and the head of every doctor involved."

Atem stopped walking and stared at his companion.

"Don't give me that look," Seto said, stopping with him. "I know your friend needs the medical team, too. As I said, I don't have enough solid information to make a move, anyway." Atem still didn't speak. "You probably think I'm just being paranoid, don't you?"

"...I do," he said after a pause. "And this paranoia has you overreacting."

"Do _not_ try to tell me that I'm overreacting. My hands are tied."

Atem offered up a hand to calm him. "But I also realize that you must have far more reasons not to trust people than I know of. You're going by your own gut feeling, just trying to protect what you have left. I can respect that. And to whatever degree I can offer my assistance in getting to the bottom of this, consider me on your team."

Seto cringed at the mention of a "team", but he tried not to let it show.

"Thank you."

"Who else knows about these suspicions of yours?" Atem asked.

"I made my position quite clear to the medical team in the room, and I'm certain it would have spread from there."

"How much does Isono know?"

"He knows as much as anybody else. The news of Mokuba's recovery seems to have traveled quickly. I don't know if he knows more than that."

"You're afraid he might be in on it too?"

"Afraid isn't the right word. I'm just being cautious about in whom I choose to place any trust."

"What about my friends?"

"What about them?"

"Would you let them help, if you thought that they could?"

"I don't see what you think Yugi and the idiot brigade could do. But I have no reason to believe that any of them could be in on any scheme that may be happening."

Atem chuckled.

"You sound like you're starting to doubt your own suspicions."

"I'm not. Perhaps seeing Mokuba move again was a more tempting thought than I realized, but that doesn't mean I believe it yet."

"May I ask you something, Kaiba?" A slight nod was the only response. "What are you going to do when the doctors are ready to release him?"

"In regard to...?"

"Taking Mokuba home, of course. You're acting like you want nothing to do with him. But he's still your responsibility, isn't he?"

"Without a certificate of death, yes. And I doubt one has been printed, since, according to the doctor in Turkey, no autopsy was performed."

"So, will you still take him in, even if you believe it isn't your brother?"

"I'll have to, won't I? If I abandon the whole mess here, I could be reported for neglect and face criminal charges. I'll take him home. But I'll keep as close a watch on him as I can manage. He won't be allowed to handle anything of a security-sensitive nature, for one."

"And if you find out that your suspicions are wrong?"

"Then I'll apologize. My brother would understand my unbelief. If the body in that hospital bed really is my kid, he'll forgive me for expecting otherwise. And if he won't, then I'll know for certain that it isn't really him."


	13. Checkmate

Atem entered the pale woman's room with grace and lightness of step, clearly trying his best not to startle her.

Seto swept into Kisara's room like a fierce gust of wind, uncaring of all he might disturb in the process.

The woman lay on her hospital bed, twirling her silver pendant in her fingers. An abandoned meal tray sat on the table beside her.

"Aren't you hungry?" Atem asked.

Kisara didn't look up at either of the men. "I was. I enjoyed the soup the nurse brought in. But I can't handle much food right now."

"How are you feeling?"

Seto didn't allow her a moment to answer.

"Can we skip the pleasantries? We're here on business."

Kisara offered Seto a serene smile. Seto glanced at her arms. She wasn't hooked up to an IV, but he wondered briefly if she was still taking pain medication.

But an image flashed in Seto's mind. He couldn't discern if it was a memory from one of his dreams or something else, but the soft, pleasant outline of the face smiling up at him looked so familiar just then.

Seto stepped closer and pulled up a chair. The edge dulled from his voice.

"I need to speak with you."

"I was wondering when you would," she said. The serene expression had faded somewhat, and she struggled to sit up.

Seto was caught off guard by this. He hadn't known she would be expecting him.

"I need to know what you know about my brother."

Kisara's smile returned.

"I sat next to him on the airplane. He was a nice boy. He made very pleasant conversation."

"'Was'? What do you mean by that?" Seto wasn't expecting anything else, but his heart felt heavier hearing the word. Saying it was even worse.

"I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry he didn't make it."

What surprised Seto the most about Kisara's words was how thoroughly she seemed to mean them. She stared down at her hands, one wrapped in gauze. Her eyes had a depth of sorrow to them that pulled Seto in, and made the hairs on his arms raise.

He didn't understand his reactions to her, and the soothing way she made him feel toward her made his gut boil. Utterly confused by the paradox, Seto tried to focus on the meeting more than the woman.

"Why were you on the aircraft in the first place? Are you an employee of my company?"

Kisara gave a slight nod.

"I didn't know that," Atem said.

"I started recently. I answered a job advertisement for organizing office space for the newest international branch."

"Couldn't you get employment a little closer to home?" Seto asked skeptically. "Why take a new job that's relocating to Germany—even if it was a temporary position?"

Kisara shrugged. "It seemed like the thing to do."

Seto narrowed his eyes. "'It seemed like the thing to do'?" he repeated. "Do you realized how suspicious that sounds?"

"Yes," Kisara answered innocently.

Seto faltered. His brewing anger grew.

Kisara smiled.

"Seto Kaiba, you came in here assuming I knew exactly who you were. Was it your arrogance that led you to that belief? Should everyone you encounter simply know who you are and what you're talking about, as if you've just picked up the thread of an interrupted conversation? Or is there something deeper happening, that you don't want to grapple with?"

Seto stared at the woman. He waited for her to go on, to explain what she meant, but she didn't.

"Maybe when you're able to answer that question, you'll know why I was on that airplane."

Kisara turned away from Seto, playing with her amulet again.

Unnerved though Seto felt, he didn't leave the room. Unable to pinpoint which emotions he felt for the woman were claiming dominance over him, he cleared his throat and emptied his thoughts.

"I just need you to tell me," he said slowly and patiently, "what happened to my brother."

"You're the one who told me, Seto. He died."

"Then why are the doctors telling me otherwise?"

She smiled at him again, and it was the last time Seto could stand it. He pushed his chair back and stood, already two steps to the door before Kisara replied.

"I don't have an answer for you, Seto, but perhaps this might help you."

Kisara removed the pendant from around her neck and held it out to him.

Seto flashed a wary glance at Atem. But Atem only shrugged. Seto shook his head and moved to the door.

"Only my brother calls me Seto."

* * *

 _One year before._

* * *

Seto had tried to escape the dreams, just to see what would happen, but it was to no avail.

When he refused sleep, the dreams morphed to hallucinations, coming to him at night while he lay awake, fighting sleep. He could find no rest from this second life. Then again, he could find no rest, period.

Seto sat in the study of his home, going over paperwork he needed his secretary at KaibaCorp US to file when he came in the next morning. He had managed to be more productive than he had the previous day, although he had awoken feeling strangely… _sad_. He did not understand why he'd had another of those powerful dreams all night long. He could remember every detail the subject of his dreams had experienced, as though he had skipped sleep altogether and lived a day within another life during the night.

He examined the height of the stack of remaining papers for him to read and sign, and sighed. A glance at the clock in the corner of his laptop told him it was already past midnight. The phone on his desk pulled him out of his thoughts, and he rubbed his temples.

Maybe he would _have_ to skip sleep tonight.

"Kaiba." He tried not to sound as tired as he was as he pressed the receiver to his ear.

"Herr Kaiba," came a thickly accented voice. "It has been far too long since we've been in touch."

Seto could feel the scowl etching its way onto his face.

"Seigfried," he spat. "Haven't you retired yet? I thought for sure KaibaCorp would have driven you out of business by now." There was a brief silence on the line, then a sigh.

"You're not far off, Herr Kaiba, and that is the context of this call. I wish to call a truce with you. I admit defeat; I can no longer compete with your corporation."

* * *

Seto returned the phone to the hook. He opened the briefcase that had been sitting at his feet and dumped his pile of papers into it. He stood and brushed off all thoughts of work and pharaohs. For now.

He scribbled a short message on a sticky note, picked up his briefcase and headed out the door. After calling his pilot and flight crew to prepare his jet and packing a small suitcase for himself, he slipped into Mokuba's room and placed the sticky note he'd written onto his brother's bathroom mirror, where he was sure to see it in the morning.

Busy as as was, Seto couldn't help but let a smug grin seep over his face. Becoming Pharaoh in one life, and pending CEO over his enemy's company in another.

* * *

The dim lights of the KC jet's cabin that Seto had to strain his eyes against were now giving him a headache. It seemed his prediction earlier now proved correct; he'd have no time for sleep tonight if he was to stay on top of his tasks during his excursion. He could reschedule meetings if need be, but few deadlines were so flexible.

He hoped he'd survive this short trip without having to deal too much with his defeated business rival personally. He'd spent too much time lately in the company of people he could hardly stand and he'd had just about as much as he could take, especially with little sleep and a migraine coming on.

And then there was still all the paperwork. He needed a day off. The CEO squinted at his watch in the low light, showing only 3 am. He was in for a long flight. But this had to get done, one way or another. He blinked away his fatigue and put his pen to the paper in front of him with new resolve.

However, as soon as the tip touched the paper, Seto was blinded by a flash of white light. He squeezed his eyes shut to protect his retinas from serious damage, but the light was gone as suddenly as it had come. When he opened his eyes again, his environment had changed. He was no longer flying through the air in his jet. The makeshift desk in front of him was now a heavy wooden table; the papers and pen in his hands had become scrolls and a quill.

Yet, he felt oddly distanced from his own body, as if he were only watching from a far. It was eerily similar to the visions he'd had whenever Yugi and some psycho were involved.

 _But… what is even happening here?_ The man Seto felt he was _attached to_ was only sitting there, studying those scrolls.

His dream had been strange this time, if one could even call what he had experienced a dream. He _had_ woken up with his head on the desk in front of him as if he'd passed out unexpectedly. But he hadn't felt rested. He was beginning to wonder if there was any escape to the visions he'd been having. He wasn't dead-set on calling them visions either, but since he wasn't exactly sure _what_ was going on with his head in the past few days, Seto was decidedly uncertain about a great number of things.

Set had been sitting at a table in front of a few unrolled scrolls, and seemed to be performing the tasks of the office he held, much like Seto had wished he could have been doing instead of watching this long-dead Egyptian pharaoh.

But then _he_ had come in, and Set, perhaps Seto as well—again, he himself wasn't certain—had felt a sense of calm relief that came with the individual's familiarity. Atem had tiptoed into the study so as not to disturb the new pharaoh, and it seemed that he had only come to observe the young man working and nothing else.

There was no conversation; not even a greeting had been shared between the two before Seto "awoke". Set at the very least, if not Seto as well, had felt that comforting calm, and fight it as he may, the slightest smile tugged at the new pharaoh's lips.

Seto had initially rolled his eyes at his own self upon awakening, but despite his fatigue, frustration, and his sense of overwhelming busyness, the feeling of that calm relief did not leave him. Still, he was not sure if the reason he felt it at all was because he had felt it during the night while observing Set working, or if he was simply reflecting the new pharaoh's reaction.

He was confused about it, but ultimately concluded that he didn't mind it. It was like its own form of medicine, in a way. If this was a reaction he might often take away from these illusions, who was he to try and fight them?

No, he was not fully set in this course of thinking, but there seemed to be little he could do to stop them anyway, and for the time being he had other things to dwell on. Pushing his current train of thoughts away, he packed up his papers and prepared for the jet's landing.

But inside himself, Seto had realized; he didn't want to escape it. The other man's life brought Seto closer to _him_. He would hang onto those moments when Set and his pharaoh would interact. Over time, those moments became something Seto anticipated.

He felt a sense of pride expecting that, as close as Yugi and the Pharaoh Atem had been, Yugi likely had no way of connecting to the man as Seto did. Although, he also felt a profound sadness knowing it wasn't really Atem, nor was it really Seto experiencing the events of the past life. They could not truly interact. The pharaoh was gone. The dreams he experienced at night were a window into a time that had already passed, lives that had already been lived.


	14. Unstable

Seto sat on a padded polyester chair down the hall and around a corner from Mokuba's hospital room. His laptop rested across his knees, but his fingers didn't move across the keyboard. Atem leaned against the nurse's station, arms crossed, studying the tiles on the polished floor.

Isono stood at his shoulder, his back parallel to the wall behind him, hands clasped in front of him. A silence had settled between the men for several long minutes, even though Seto figured Isono knew he wasn't working.

The laptop was supposed to give him something to do with his hands, but he couldn't get his mind on board to do any work.

"I shouldn't have let him go to Germany," Seto said.

Isono didn't answer immediately, but lifted the dark glasses on his nose and peered down at his employer.

"Sir, you had no way of preventing this."

"That's not true." Seto hissed. "I didn't have to send him off to do my job."

"You were providing him with needed training, Seto-sama. Bocchan wanted to go."

"Kaiba, you're missing the point," Atem pitched in. "This isn't your fault. But it isn't Mokuba's fault, either."

Seto shot him a dangerous look.

"I _know_ this wasn't my brother's fault."

"But you can't take your distrust out on him."

Seto slammed the lid of his laptop shut.

"It isn't my brother I don't trust. I don't trust the doctors who are trying to tell me that the boy I held in my arms wasn't dead. Even though he had no pulse. No breath. Even though his skin felt like cold rubber, and half his face was bashed in. You might have noticed, through the years that you've known me, that I don't make a habit of readily accepting claims that make _no sense_. Not even when I might want to."

Atem took a deep breath, then let it out.

"Yes, Kaiba. I know. I see where you're coming from. But may I ask you one question?"

"You're going to anyway."

"What happens if you're wrong?"

"I already gave you that answer. If I find out that I'm wrong—through solid, medical evidence that _nobody_ in this place wants to give me—I will apologize."

"That's all well, but try to think of how your brother might feel on his end. He only just survived a plane crash. In your own words, he fell out of the sky into the face of a mountain. Nobody knows yet what happened, and perhaps that's another factor. If I were to wager a guess, I would say he's probably terrified right now. And his Nii-sama won't even talk to him. Won't even acknowledge him. How do you think that feels to him?"

"Go ahead and keep talking about him like he's the same person as the kid I've grown up with," Seto snarled.

"Seto-sama." Isono bowed apologetically. "I… think he's right. We don't know for sure."

" _Not_ you too." Seto leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry, sir. But the boy _is_ breathing. May I ask... what harm would it do to speak with him?" Isono shrugged. "Ask questions. Reveal nothing of your own thoughts."

"I came to suggest the same thing, Kaiba. What harm would it do? You don't have to tell him what you're thinking... other that what you've already said to the doctor in front of him."

Seto was quiet. He wanted to protest. He couldn't find a logical reason not to go, but he still tried to fight the idea.

"In the event," Isono tried again, "that you have misconstrued this situation, putting in this small amount of effort should make that apology a bit easier."

The facts presented before him, Seto admitted that the argument held more weight than his aversion to going back to the room. He made to move toward the door when Atem spoke.

"I'll go with you," he offered.

Seto scoffed, but Atem began to trail after him anyway.

"I don't need your emotional support to do this."

Atem laughed, and slapped Seto's back. Isono flanked his employer as the three men exited Seto's quarters.

"Of course not. I'm coming along simply as an observer. A witness to the interaction, just as your right hand." He gestured to Isono, who nodded.

"Although, if you prefer, Seto-sama, I will wait outside the room."

"Why? You can't hear anything with the door closed."

"I take it that you've tried?" Atem passed on a sly smirk. "You're more interested in this boy than you've let on."

Seto shot him a look of insult.

"Why shouldn't I be interested? It is my little brother's body, isn't it? The fact that I hate the situation doesn't deny me interest in it."

The three men rounded a corner and stopped in front of the little room Mokuba was resting in. Seto didn't allow himself to hesitate, or even to stop and knock. He pushed the door open and swept in. Isono and Atem filed in behind him, but kept to the corner.

Seto stepped straight up to the side of the boy's bed. His eyes were closed, but the machine to the side indicated a steady heart rate. The bandage on his face had been changed, the new patch a little smaller. Seto put a hand on his shoulder and shook.

Mokuba's eyes eased open just as Seto took a step back, reverting to his comfortable yet authoritative pose of high shoulders and crossed arms. Mokuba gave a small smile and tried to stretch, but stopped with a sudden wince.

"Hey, Nii-sama. It's good to see you." He peered out the small round window, but from his vantage point likely couldn't see more than the gray sky. "Do you think we'll get to go home soon?"

Seto had to consciously remind himself not to get swept away. The voice was right, the tone was accurate, and even the sleepy smile was just like _him_. But he couldn't let himself give up and trust. Still, Seto's glare had lost its sharp edge in those few seconds.

"No," he answered, even though he'd heard no word from the doctors about that yet. "I need some answers from you."

Mokuba lost his smile and struggled to pull himself into a better sitting position. He didn't get far before wincing again. Isono made a reflexive move to assist, but Seto shot his arm out to stop him. He backed away immediately, and Mokuba gave up trying to sit up.

"Sure. What do you need to know?"

"What happened on the airplane in the moments before the crash?"

A slight frown set into Mokuba's face. He stared at the ceiling with his hands folded over his stomach. Seto noticed for the first time that one of his wrists was in a brace.

"I can't really answer that."

Seto scoffed, flashed a look back at the men in the corner. "Why not? Don't you remember?"

"Not the end of the flight. I think the passengers might have been gassed or something. Maybe to keep us from panicking?"

Isono moved up to the foot of Mokuba's bed, but came no closer.

"Are you saying that someone on board the aircraft was intentionally responsible for the wreck?" Isono asked.

"Definitely. He was wearing a kind of makeshift gas mask. He had a gun, waving it around, and -"

"How could someone get a _gun_ on a secure aircraft?" Seto interjected.

"Probably the same way someone would get enough poison on board to gas all of the passengers," Mokuba answered.

"Just so they could drive the airplane into a mountain?" Atem puzzled aloud. Mokuba moved his shoulders a little, looking like he was trying to shrug.

"Don't ask me. I was just along for the ride."

The stuffy room was beginning to feel too warm for Seto. He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the back of a wooden chair. He swallowed thickly, but his mouth felt suddenly dry. He coughed before forcing out another question.

"Wouldn't levels of poison in the body have shown up with a blood test?"

"If one was taken," Isono answered.

Mokuba gently shook his head. "Don't know. I'm not a doctor. Then again, that's just what I think happened."

"Can you tell us what you do remember?" Atem tried.

"Yeah. The guy got up from his seat—he was somewhere in the middle, a few rows in front of me—and he started shouting at us all. The flight attendants tried to stop him, and then one of pilots was trying to help. He threw a grenade into the aisle toward the front of the plane. I think we all thought it was going to explode, and people were screaming."

Mokuba looked wide awake and present, but his expression seemed far away.

"What happened next?" Isono urged.

Seto found himself needing to ask very few questions at all, but he was glad to delegate the task of moving the flow to someone else. Seto's eyes were following every tick and twitch of the boy's body, and evaluating his speaking from his choice of words down to his tone.

So far, nothing seemed out of character. He resigned to keep listening, to keep watching.

"The air got real thick. Then people started getting quiet. I couldn't see into anyone's seat to know if they were still alive or not. I held my breath. Then the lady I was sitting next to laid her head on my shoulder. She was still breathing, but she wasn't awake."

"This lady sitting next to you—what was her name?" Seto found himself compelled to ask.

"I tried to ask, but she didn't tell me."

"What did she look like?"

Mokuba looked puzzled at the question. A glance from the corner of Seto's eyes told him that his companions were, too. Mokuba coughed.

"Pretty. She was skinny with long hair. Her skin was really light."

" _Kisara_ ," Seto and Atem managed to whisper in near unison.

Mokuba coughed more. The sound was light, almost pitiful. He took a quick sip from the cup of water beside the bed.

"You know her?"

"It doesn't matter," Seto dismissed quickly. "What else can you remember?"

Mokuba returned the cup and went back to staring at the ceiling.

"Eventually, I had to take a breath. Things got dark pretty fast after that." He shivered. He moved to pull his blanket closer to his chin. "That's all I can tell you, until I woke up here. The doctors could tell you more about that than I probably can."

Atem stepped further into the room and put a hand on Seto's shoulder. He tried to shake it off, but Atem tightened his grip. He stood as tall as he could to speak into Seto's ear.

"I think it's time to take your leave. He's had enough of this."

Seto shook his head. "One last question. What did the doctor tell you about the crash? About yourself, specifically?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"He must have talked with you about your condition. What did he have to say?

"The doctor said my chances were rough for a while, but that they got me help just in time."

Seto's scowl deepened.

"They also said that there's another passenger in the building who's doing okay. I keep asking to talk to them, but no one will let me."

Seto, who had been still as a statue, huffed and suddenly spun out of the room. He didn't bother saying farewell to Mokuba, but he had to will himself not to look back at him as he left.

Atem offered the boy a quick nod before skipping off to follow Seto. Isono bowed deeply, wished the boy well, and offered to refill his water before leaving, although Mokuba declined.

* * *

"Are you quite satisfied?" Atem hissed after chasing Seto halfway down the hallway. "Did you get your information?"

Seto stopped his stride but didn't give an answer.

"Kaiba, that child is traumatized! Don't you see what this set of events has done to him?"

"So... you believed his story."

"Why shouldn't I? Why don't _you_?" he spat. Isono stepped up beside Seto just then, concern etched into his features.

"Because I can't afford to." He realized he'd already said that more times than he could count since the ship left the harbor, and it was beginning to lose its meaning even in his own ears.

"Kaiba." Atem stepped back and examined his rival. His friend. "Mokuba deserves more than what you just gave him. He needs comfort and protection. I'm certain he wants those things from _you_."

"I can't do that."

Atem sighed. When he spoke next, he looked like the words pained him to speak them, as if each syllable cut his tongue on the way out of his mouth.

"You're grieving. You came _so_ close to losing Mokuba. I think... you're only seeing what you want to see, so that you don't have to hurt. To protect yourself, you're keeping Mokuba at a distance. I think that you're the one keeping him dead."

In a flash, Seto's eyes went feral.

"How _dare_ you! You honestly think I _want_ this?"

"Yes, Kaiba. I do. I think that somewhere in your mind, you want to push through your grief so you can move on. The sooner you can bury your brother, the sooner the pain will fade."

"You think I'm choosing to believe that my brother is dead to avoid false hope? You're more pathetic than I thought. You keep trying to tell me that you're my friend, but you're too weak to see the truth I'm seeing. You're too weak to accept that light and happiness doesn't always win. I can't keep company with someone so disastrously blind to the facts."

"I do not take back what I said, Kaiba. I will always consider you my friend. For that, I hope you find your way out of this dark tunnel you've placed yourself in. But at the moment, I believe you're the one who has lost sight of his strength. I wonder at the possibility that Mokuba wasn't actually in the state you remember finding him in."

Seto's tone was dark, his voice pinching in his throat.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You were the first to find him, but only after you decided to expect him dead. You told me that yourself."

"Don't you dare challenge me on this. I know what I remember. I know what I felt."

"Please don't get defensive. I believe that you saw and felt what you did."

"No. You're suggesting that my subconscious _wanted_ to find him dead when he could have been alive. The doctor himself told me that he was considered dead on arrival, until the autopsy began."

Atem chuckled. The sound was dark.

"Now you believe what he told you? Is the medical staff lying to you, or not? You can't even stick to one story." He shook his head, and sobered again. "Anyway, it was you who decided to believe that Mokuba was already gone before you arrived. You made that choice to protect yourself, because seeing it with your own eyes when your heart would have been filled with hope would be too painful. I believe that your mind has carried this game too far. You've deluded yourself."

Seto's white-knuckled fists were trembling against his sides. Atem put his hands up in a signal of surrender.

"One of us has to be wrong," Atem went on. "I hope it's not me, and I believe that some part of you feels the same. But regardless, that boy—whoever he really is—is shaken to his core, though he is bravely trying to hide it. And he's happy to see you. You should see him again. _Not_ now," Atem clarified when Seto opened his mouth in protest. "Later, perhaps. Just ask yourself: what would be the harm?"

Atem took another deep breath, and much to Seto's relief, remained silenced.

Seto began to loosen his fists. He offered a slow glance at his employee.

"And where are your two cents? I should have expected you to chip in by now."

Isono looked suddenly nervous, but he stepped up and broadened his shoulders. "I agree, sir. I don't see the harm in consoling the boy. Remaining guarded would be prudent, of course," he allowed.

Seto gave Atem a long, sharp glare.

Then he shot a glance at Isono. "Find a way to add surveillance to his room. I would prefer, of course, audio and video both, but if only audio is possible with whatever equipment you can manage, then it will do. Make sure you do it discreetly. The boy can't know."

Isono nodded. "Yes, sir." He bowed and left promptly.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading. The earlier stages of this story might be moving along with a little patience and ambiguity, but the pace may quicken in the near future. We'll see how Seto handles himself through everything.


	15. Empty

Seto strode down the hall too swiftly to allow the other men to follow him. He was tired of being followed, being flanked. Being so constantly surrounded by people.

And yet, never in his life could Seto remember feeling so alone.

A stairwell labeled "fire escape" called Seto's attention, and he obliged. He pushed through the metal door and let it slam behind him. Without a second thought, his feet carried him down the flights of stairs.

Each time his boot pounded the cement step the sound echoed stories away and back to his ears, until the sound was all he could register. His legs moved mechanically. Before he realized, he was standing at the bottom landing.

He glanced upward; from the ground floor the set of stairs rose too many levels for him to count. Nobody else was around to disrupt the fresh silence.

He felt too warm and moved to remove his jacket, only to remember that he'd already taken it off somewhere. He let himself ignore it and sat down on a step. The garment wasn't important, even if it had been expensive; even if he might have left his billfold and ID in the pocket. The only thing he felt he needed hung on a cord around his neck.

He clicked the locket open and let himself stare at the picture inside. He sat so for a long while as the still silence enveloped him.

"Something is happening," Seto let himself say aloud, "that I don't understand." He spoke more to the photo in his hands than to himself or to the empty space around him. "I wish you were here."

* * *

The Royal Adviser appeared instantly put-off by my agitation. Fittingly so.

"You've asked to see me, Your Royal Highness?" Atem knelt down as low as he could manage, keeping his head bowed until I deigned to speak.

"Rise," I allowed, though my tone was purposefully indignant.

Atem rose, watching me with what appeared to be concern.

"I have personally overheard you consorting with a member of the Royal Court," I said.

Atem's concerned expression broke and he laughed casually. "You heard me talking with Isis? I don't see why that would be a problem. I know I've relinquished my position on the Court, but I'm still of royal blood. I'm allowed on the grounds, by the decree. Unless Your Highness chooses to override the scrolls, of course."

I scoffed. "I don't care that you were _talking_ with Isis. What concerns me was your conduct, as well as the subject matter."

Atem pursed his lips, his head hanging lower. "You heard us in the gardens, discussing Your Highness?"

I heaved a sigh. I rose, and waved off Atem's initial reaction to bow again. I stepped down from the throne and approached my adviser, standing on equal ground.

"Atem. I don't wish to lord my position over you—not _you_ , of all people. I am not insulted because of my crown. I'm insulted because of our blood. I was not brought up in this palace like you were, but we come from the same lineage. Yet you choose to address your concerns about me with others instead of with me. I wish to know why."

My cousin looked up, meeting my eyes.

"I apologize, Set. At the time, it seemed a trivial action. I had you on my mind, and Isis was present. So it turned out, she had similar concerns about you as well. About the items. I didn't know it would turn into _this_."

I turned my back to Atem, facing the throne again.

"You convinced the Royal Court, _my_ Royal Guard, to turn their attentions toward my personal situation. To use their magic for my gain, instead of focusing their full resources on protecting our land. What is this magic you're trying to toy with?"

"Set, you need to admit it. If not to me, then to yourself. You have not been the same since the loss of that peasant girl."

"Because _nothing_ has been the same since then! I've received a new rank. Countless citizens lost their lives in the battle. And you think my change in behavior is due to the loss of one girl? I barely knew her."

"You had met her before, though, hadn't you?"

"Only once, if the girl I remembered had really been her."

"The items are no longer working as they were created, Set. Something needs to be done about it. You're concerned about the Court using the items to protect the land, but how can they do that when we all know the magic is fading?"

"I agree. Your father created the items. If you know something about how their magic can be restored, I entrust the task to you."

"Isis drew me an image of a pendant she had seen through the tauk that may be the answer to our problems. It appears to be a fragile item, and from what she can tell, its magic can only be used once."

"Then use it, if you think it will provide the answer."

Atem chuckled, appearing deeply amused by something I couldn't pick up on.

"I'm going to remember you told me that. If all works as intended, I'll be able to remind _you_ of that, one way or another."

"I don't understand."

Atem bowed again, which seemed unnecessary until I glimpsed his suddenly sober expression.

"I beg your pardon, Your Highness. But if you really do entrust me with this task, then you'll allow me to say that you don't need to understand."

I stood back, feeling indignant.

"I ought to be appalled at that kind of language."

"...Ought?"

But I realized that if my understanding would interfere with what Atem was up to, then as he said, I didn't need to understand. The man had just saved Egypt. I still didn't know how he had done it.

"But because it's you, I'll consider letting it slide."

* * *

Seto couldn't remember how the dream had ended. Perhaps it was another of those odd mornings waking up with no real conclusion. Like walking out of a theater, half-way through a show.

" _I'm going to remember you told me that. If all works as intended, I'll be able to remind you of that, one way or another."_

What could Atem ever have meant by such a saying? What could that long-buried man have insinuated during a forgotten era, that still drove its way under Seto's skin?

How much of a connection did Atem share with Seto's dreams? How much… might he remember about them? And if he could recall any of the memories, then Seto was certain he had some involvement in the present events.

Atem, the magic items, the 'missing tools'. Kisara, and her pendant. Somehow all of the ingredients added up, but to what, Seto couldn't say. He must be missing a piece. Something told him that the piece was lost somewhere in Mokuba's memory. He refused to deny that Atem and Kisara had to have some involvement in the situation at hand.

 _What situation?_ Seto thought suddenly.

His anger, his frustration, his loss. His misery. But at what? _What_ was even happening? From the outside, Seto was sure he was beginning to seem paranoid. Insane with grief, even. But no one else had considered accepting that he knew his brother best. The the child's display was a charade, a blatant act.

Atem had promised to be in his corner, to have his back. He'd offered _friendship_. If the offer ought to be worth anything in Seto's eyes, he couldn't see it. Atem had promised him camaraderie.

But one way or another, whatever his intentions, Atem had been _involved_. Whether he had memory of it or not, the man had said so himself.

Seto stood, feeling more calm but no more complete. As his heart rate lowered, a chill had settled in around him, and he wished he had his jacket. But as he remembered where he'd taken it off, he tasted bile.

He couldn't go back to that room again. Not with that child—that horrific impersonation—pleading for his affection. He couldn't handle it. He would settle for pacing the halls to get his blood flowing again, Seto decided.

Just as he placed a hand on the door to exit the staircase, the pocket of Seto's jeans began to vibrate. Isono's number flashed on the ID. He answered without a greeting.

"Sir, we have a small problem."

"What kind of problem?" Seto asked dully.

He noted vaguely that this was the kind of call that should freeze the blood in his veins. His first thought would have been of Mokuba. But he felt then everything he believed a man who had just lost everything _could_ feel.

Nothing.

Isono announced something over the line, his tone sounding urgent, but the answer didn't register to Seto.

"I'll be there," he said, and ended the call.


	16. Press

Seto moved his body robotically. What incentive did he have to rush? To even _think_? He had nearly reached the end of the hallway that led into the hospital's lobby when Isono grabbed his arm.

"You don't want to go out there, sir."

A dull hum of chatter reached Seto's ears. He suspected that it had been there all along, but hadn't registered. He had let himself get lost on a train of non-thought.

He had enjoyed the ride, but it had come to an end.

"Who are they?" Seto asked. His voice didn't sound like his own.

"The press, sir. More reporters are rallying outside. This is what I was trying to tell you over the phone."

"What do they want?"

"They want a statement from you. About KC1."

Seto scoffed. "I knew they would come knocking. I'm surprised it took so long. What kind of statement are they looking for?"

"While you were occupied, one news channel reported that Mokuba was on board. But none of the stations ever named the survivor."

Seto's jaw tightened involuntarily, and he tried to force himself to relax.

"You made certain that the families of my employees and the flight crew were all notified, correct?"

"Certainly, sir."

Seto nodded. He didn't want to give any of his employees' families false hope. He knew well what that felt like.

"Does that woman have any family to be contacted?"

"I… don't know, sir. I have no more information on her than you do."

More chatter came from the hallway in the direction Seto had just come. He whirled around, suddenly alert, only to see Yugi and Jounouchi headed his way.

"Hey Moneybags. We came to check out all the racket. What's goin' on?"

"The circus is in town." Seto turned to face Yugi. "Does Kisara have family to be contacted?"

He found himself feeling annoyed that he hadn't thought to ask before.

Yugi shook his head. "When we asked her if there was anyone we should call, she said she would take care of it."

Seto nodded. He remembered seeing a phone in the hospital room. That gave him both relief and a sense of uneasiness. Something about the woman wasn't right, but at least no one was waiting on news about her.

"So the reporters are twisting the facts to say that Mokuba is the survivor, then?" Seto asked Isono.

"It would seem so. I've been receiving calls all morning on your behalf, from business contacts sending their best wishes." Isono offered a grim-looking smile. "They seem relieved he survived the crash."

Seto closed his eyes. He clenched his jaw, and let out a breath.

"That's how it's going to be, then?"

"Apparently so. Have you prepared a speech to deliver?"

"Do I look like I've had time to prepare note cards for a press conference?" he asked, waving his empty hands.

"I can try to hold them off if you're not ready. Security will get you back to your room, or through the back entrance if you wish."

"I'm not ready. But those vultures will come storming up to my front door sooner or later if they don't get their answers."

"Does that mean you intend on…?"

"I'll be as ambiguous on the details as I can, but giving the reporters something should get them off my back for a bit."

"Very well, sir."

Seto combed his fingers through his hair and tugged his black cashmere sweater straight.

"You look golden, sir," Isono assured. "Television ready."

Seto nodded to his majordomo and stepped out from the hallway into the lobby. Isono followed at his heels, and seemingly out of nowhere two other men in dark suit and glasses stood on either side of the men. Seto recognized them as part of his security force, but couldn't name either of them.

He had all the security in his corporation at his disposal. Yet nobody was there to protect Mokuba when he needed it.

An immediate hush ran through the crowd. Seto estimated at least thirty people. Lights suddenly flashed on him, and several people scurried about with video cameras on their shoulders.

 _You're on live television,_ he thought. _A million people are watching._ _Don't fuck this up._

"Mister Kaiba! Mister Kaiba!" reporters shouted over each other, shoving microphones in Seto's face.

One determined woman shoved and elbowed her way to the front.

"Mister Kaiba! Can you give us a statement about the aircraft that crashed? Did it belong to you?"

"No."

A murmur shuddered throughout the room.

"No?"

"The Kaiba-Corp 1 aircraft was official property of the Kaiba Corporation. The machine was used for corporate purposes only."

"Can you tell us what happened? Why did your aircraft crash?"

Seto thought better of correcting her. He would either come off as petty, or defensive, which would look even worse.

"The reasons are still being investigated." Seto hadn't even tried seeking information from the police. He suspected that Isono was doing that legwork for him, and he would need to check in soon.

"Mister Kaiba," came another forceful reporter. "Who was the pilot?"

"A private contractor." Seto didn't know a thing about the man.

He could have said that Kaiba Corp hired him often, and the media would spin that KC couldn't trust its employees. He could have said that they'd never worked together before, and the media would report that KC had a faulty hiring and background check process. No option was safe except to keep his answers simple and vague.

"What was his name?"

"I don't know it off hand."

"Mister Kaiba," came a solemn voice. "Do you have anything you would like to say to the families of the fallen?"

The sudden silence sent a shiver up Seto's spine. He felt himself perspiring.

"Not at this time."

The silence ran on for longer than Seto was comfortable with. The reporters weren't taking his answer well, but he hadn't prepared anything yet. He should have come up with something by now but… he was too distracted.

"Mister Kaiba," the first reporter jumped in again. "Is it true that a family member of yours was present on the aircraft?"

Seto hesitated, though he knew he shouldn't. He couldn't seem to choke the answer out fast enough.

"Yes," he finally said.

"Is he safe?" she asked.

"Is he hurt?" another man shouted. "Can we see him?"

"Let us see him!" a third demanded.

Seto felt his face grow hot. He began to tremble.

" _Enough."_

The reporters' jaws dropped. Seto realized he was shooting daggers from his eyes on camera. The media would see. His partners would see. The families of the deceased would see.

But as the word flew out of his mouth, Seto didn't care.

"He's a hospital patient, you disgusting vultures! Leave him alone."

A thick silence hung in the air.

Seto had spoken as if his brother was to be more heavily defended than any of the other passengers or staff. As if Mokuba's privacy was more important to Seto than acknowledging the pain of all the families watching. As if he was hording up his treasure all to himself, while refusing his civil responsibility to grieve for the fallen. It wasn't the message he'd wanted to send.

"This conference is over."

Seto spun and strode away from the boisterous lobby, flanked on either side by the security guards keeping the reporters at bay, even as they tried to follow. They had made it so easy, for just a moment, to pretend it wasn't real.

He walked away with the confidence of knowing he had fucked up.

"You put them in their place," Isono commented as he strode along beside Seto.

He scoffed, dodging the compliment. "They think this is real. I wouldn't tolerate those kind of demands on my brother. They want to drag a young boy out of his hospital bed to compete in show-and-tell. And for what? So that those blood-hungry monsters can get their high ratings?"

"I couldn't agree more, sir."

"But I will be paying for this. Maybe I should have had note cards," he said.

"Possibly. And, ah, sir? I have one more bit of information for you."

"What is it now?"

"Mokuba has been cleared for release. His injuries have been taken care of well enough for him to go home."

Just as with the media attack, Seto should have seen it coming. He should have been more prepared already. He said nothing.

* * *

Seto paused in front of the door to the boy's room. He was alone, and from what Seto could see, so was Mokuba. He hadn't had time yet to check over the surveillance Isono had planted.

All he needed was his jacket from the room, but he knew he would be forced to talk. Still, he wouldn't allow himself to back out. He turned the knob without knocking and pushed his way in.

Seto tried not to look at him, but found himself being pulled in by the sight. Aside from the _patient_ , as Seto insisted on thinking of him, the room was empty. He was even detached from his IV, and his gauze-wrapped face was reduced to a single patch bandage across his right cheekbone.

The boy was sitting up, grinning at him, though Seto suspected the expression brought on some pain. His body was thinner than he was used to seeing.

"I saw you on TV," the boy said, pointing up to the television hanging in the corner, tuned in to a news station. "You defended me."

 _No_ , Seto countered internally. _I defended my brother's memory. My_ dead _brother._

"That's what you think happened?" Seto answered aloud.

The boy's grin remained. "I knew you weren't really mad at me."

"What makes you think that?"

Mokuba's grin finally faltered. Seto plucked his jacket off the chair where he had left it earlier, checking the pockets to ensure nothing was missing. He slipped his arms into the jacket and straightened it, then Seto looked the boy squarely in the eyes.

"I've had my suspicions from the moment I first heard the news. You and I both know what's going on. So why don't we drop the damn act?"

Mokuba blinked, as if confused. Then a frown set in and his blinking came with more ferocity. Seto noticed his eyes were growing red.

He whirled out of the room before he had to watch Mokuba cry.


	17. Homecoming

I didn't have to wait for Atem to sneak out for a secret meeting tonight. I heard his whispering voice outside the dining hall. I stopped around the corner to listen, ignoring the faces of my subjects turned in my direction. I peeked around the corner just enough to see Atem, his back to me. He was speaking with Mana, but she didn't seem able to notice me.

His hand was closed loosely around some object. A long leather cord hung from his closed fist. I recalled, then, what he had said about gathering the necessary tools.

"I offer you my gratitude," Atem said, loudly enough for me to hear.

I slipped into the hallway as Mana walked away. Atem turned in my direction, but didn't look up. He stared down at his fist. He uncurled his fingers and gazed at the delicate silver pendant. It appeared to have a sort of glow, all of its own.

He turned his face up and startled, looking surprised to see me standing in the entrance.

"My liege," he said, bowing to one knee. With that, the item was concealed. He clearly couldn't have meant for me to see it.

I did not let on that I had.

I nodded, allowing him to rise without stopping to speak. He made little effort to conceal what was hidden in his hand. I caught a glimpse of silver.

He rose as I brushed past him. I could feel his gaze on my back, but I refused to give him another ounce of acknowledgment. Instead I followed Mana down the hall. When she turned and noticed me, she too took to her knee and bowed. I peered over my shoulder. Atem had departed into the dining hall again.

Good.

Two guards were posted at the corner of the hallway. I motioned for their attention.

"Take this woman. Bring her to the prison. I will meet with you there."

Without a word, the men obliged. As if grappling with disbelief, Mana's expression melted from one of reverence to one of horror in a blink, but I didn't allow her fear to upset me. I had never been personally fond of the girl, but she was a dear friend of my adviser. And he, well…

He was an important subject in my life. Ordinarily I would say I hold a high respect for the man. Perhaps I would even admit to seeking his approval.

Not this day. Mana began to screech and wail. I snapped my fingers.

"Do what you have to keep her quiet."

A hand instantly clasped over her mouth as the men struggled with her.

"What are her charges, your Highness?"

"Conspiracy and treason. I witnessed an exchange tonight that has me… concerned."

Now that Shimon had grown old and passed, Atem remains my sole adviser. Unfortunately, it is him above any other whom I have learned to distrust. No one else remains for me to speak to on the matter which I have seen.

Mana's eyes widened. I stared into them as I followed through the halls. She didn't look away, and neither did I.

* * *

"Our nation has seen too much darkness and horror in the recent past for me to overlook your secrecy," I said, seating myself before Mana.

She was in chains, bound at the wrist, ankle and neck. If she were Isis, or Shada, or anyone else associated with my royal court, I would have thought the treatment excessive. But her powers eluded me, and I wasn't in the mood for any surprises.

Mana did not respond. She stared at me, fear and defiance intermingled in her glassy eyes. I could see by the attitude painted plainly on her face that she and Atem had been close friends for a reason. The girl's emotions came strongly, but her resolve was of stone.

"I did not bring you here to treat you poorly," I said. "But your dear friend the Prince does not know you are here. You will not be rescued. And if he does find out, and attempt to _save_ you, everyone involved will find themselves locked away, for far greater a time than I have planned for you."

Still, she did not speak.

"All you have to do is cooperate. What information have you been passing along to the former King without my knowledge?"

Mana's lips trembled. Did she wish to say already? Was she really so easy to break?

"You will be in control of how long you remain in this dungeon. Neither Atem, nor the royal court, is aware of your presence here. Nor will they once I have released you. _If_ I release you," I said, purely for effect.

Atem earned his loyalty through kindness and strength, and I had tried to follow his lead. As that didn't seem to be working, I was left to resort to forcing mine.

"Therefore, if you cooperate with me, none of the other pieces in your mission will find out that I learned the information I seek from you. If they ask after your absence, you may even use me as a story. I will vouch that you've been on bedrest, or on a journey. But you _will_ give me the information I need."

"You don't have to do this," she finally said. Her voice was a pitiful whisper.

"Why don't I?" I asked. "What do I have to gain by allowing you lot to traipse around at midnight conspiring against me?"

"Not against you. _For_ you."

"If you believe I have an enemy I don't know about, aside from yourselves, the solution is not to hide it from me. You only serve to bring your cause under scrutiny."

"…You do have an enemy, but not one you will know how to fight."

" _Tell me!_ " I shouted, leaping from my seat. I felt alarmed by my sudden rage, but I didn't let it fade. "Who is conspiring against me, girl? Tell me, or you will not be released from this prison!"

Mana shed a stream of silent tears, but her jaw remained set and strong.

"You, my Pharaoh. Your enemy is _you_."

A heat forced its way through my body, exiting through my fingers, leaving my hands trembling with anger.

"Lock her away," I said to the guards, and left.

* * *

"Pharaoh!" a woman cried to me. I recognized Isis's voice, even the light footsteps against the stone floor, but I ignored her.

"Pharaoh," Atem's voice followed. He was following her.

I knew what this was about. I allowed them to catch up to me, but caught the eye of the guard standing by my side. He nodded.

"My king!" Isis huffed, kneeling before me.

I held off a moment before telling her to rise.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"The magician's apprentice has gone missing," Isis said.

"Your young friend?" I asked the former king.

"Yes. I don't know where she's gone. She isn't known for disappearing like this. Have you heard anything from her?"

"No," I lied. "When had she last been seen?"

"During the evening meal, last night. You… you saw us together, I believe."

"Was that her? I wasn't paying attention. I left the dining hall and went a separate way. Perhaps one of the guards posted on the corners last night could give you some insight," I said, knowing they would make up a story to appease him. If I had any concern they might sell out their king, I would never have posted them as guards.

"I already spoke to them. They don't remember seeing her."

"I don't know what else to tell you. But little time has passed since yesterday evening. She's sure to turn up. Perhaps you're getting concerned over nothing."

"I hope so," Atem said. But his eyes latched on to mine.

Of course I didn't think I'd deceived the former king. If anyone in the great nation could combat against my intellect, the former king would be the only candidate. But I held onto my facade. He wouldn't get the truth out of me until I roped the truth out of him.

* * *

Seto found that, over the course of the dreams, he found himself having difficulty separating Set's actions from his own. He felt a certain level of responsibility for them, as he would have chosen to act the very same under the same circumstances.

He didn't feel remorse for locking Mana away. Atem needed to be held at a distance. So long as he wasn't assisting Seto's solutions, he ought to be considered part of the problem.

Seto had known the man for far more years than he was openly willing to recognize. He knew his patterns well by now.

* * *

"Do you see it as a coincidence that Kisara and Mokuba are getting released on the same day?" Jounouchi asked as he poked his head into Seto's room.

"I do," Seto replied, packing the last of his belongings into his luggage bag.

"I don't know too much about this theory of yours, Kaiba, but I gotta agree that something fishy is goin' on here."

Seto turned around and eyed the blond man. Over his shoulder stood the rest of their friendship crowd.

"What do you know?" Seto asked.

Jou shrugged. "Nothin' you don't know. Just don't sit well with me, you know?"

Seto wanted to press him, but Isono pushed past the group in the doorway.

"Seto-sama?" Isono asked delicately. "What is it that you plan to do with the, ah, child? Now that he's being out-processed."

Seto let out a bark of laughter that sounded more like a scoff.

"Are you asking if I'm going to take him home with me, or tie him up in a bag of rocks to sink, like drowning puppies?"

"...The former, sir."

"You should have been able to figure out by now that there's nothing I can do but take him home and let him make me pretend. The house staff will know no difference, though I'm sure they'll eventually pick up on the changes in behavior."

"And what of his corporate position?"

"I'll be damned the day he enters my building. I am not giving him his access cards."

"I wonder if he knows Mokuba-sama's passwords."

Seto froze in place.

"It could be a possibility," Isono went on. "He knows what happened on the airplane from your brother's personal point of view."

"That's true," Seto considered. "It's a dangerous possibility. He'll have to be under careful watch, with no access to technology that can get into KC's mainframe. I'm sure that if he had it his way, I'd be working for him."

"It won't come to that, sir. Your security team will be on the task as soon as you give the command."

"Consider it given."

Isono nodded. He paused and placed a hand to his wired earpiece.

"Thank you," he muttered, then turned back to Seto. "Sir, your car has arrived."

"Fine. I'll task you with retrieving the child."

Isono bowed and left the room.

* * *

When the last bit of the hospital's paperwork was signed, Seto carried his luggage to the ground floor. He suspected to be assaulted by another mob of reporters, but Isono must have done his job to hold them off. He didn't see a single person.

The entrance into the parking garage, where Seto had beaten the King of Games, was in sight when Seto detected footsteps from another hallway. He passed through an intersection and nearly collided with Atem. He was accompanied by Isono and Mokuba.

Seto rolled his eyes and continued on, not bothering to slow his pace.

Atem jogged to catch up with him.

"Have you been puzzling out whoever gave her that necklace?" Atem asked.

The question slowed Seto enough to let Isono and Mokuba pass.

"Go ahead and wait in the car," Seto said.

"Yes, sir," Isono agreed. He walked a few steps, but Mokuba didn't follow.

"Why is the necklace so important?" Mokuba asked.

Seto stopped walking. He narrowed his eyes at the boy. Seto was glad Isono had sent someone out to buy the boy a new set of clothes. Seeing him in one of Mokuba's outfits would have felt so wrong.

"I told you to wait in the car," Seto repeated.

He flashed an insulted Kaiba glare that didn't quite fit on Mokuba's face.

 _Who could display such a natural Kaiba glare better than… a_ natural _Kaiba?_ Seto wondered.

"Why are you being so mean to me today? I thought you'd be happy about this."

" _Go wait in the car._ "

Mokuba sulked out of the hospital, following Isono into the garage. When he was gone, Atem flashed him a look.

"Don't give me that," Seto defended. "You know what I think about him."

"Fine. But his question is, nonetheless, relevant."

Seto rubbed his forehead, trying to distract himself from the train of thought he was on.

"The necklace is important because I've seen it before. I thought it was a dream, but then here she is, wearing the exact same piece of jewelry I saw in someone else's hands." _Yours_ , he thought bitterly. "When I asked, all she would say is that someone important gave it to her."

Atem eyed Seto with a hint of suspicion.

He couldn't know that Seto knew his secret, that Seto had been watching, even with thousands of miles and years separating them. Seto turned his impenetrable steel gaze on Atem, refusing to give in to his questioning eyes.


	18. Last Resort

I visited Mana frequently over the next day. Each time I returned she had resumed her previous silence. And yet, still each time I was able to wrench more information out of her.

"Why do you continue to insist that I am my own enemy?" I asked her. A new tactic had come to mind and I wanted to try it.

I unlocked one of her chains, freeing her right hand.

Mana's eyes widened. She rubbed her wrist with her still-bound hand, but didn't answer.

"One more time." I unlocked her other hand, massaging the delicate flesh myself. She flinched at my touch at first, but she slowly began to relax.

"Answer my questions and I will continue unlocking your bindings until you are free to go. Fail to do so, however, and I leave you like this." I dropped the chains at her feet, the echoing rattle bouncing off the hollow chamber.

"I was only listening to what the Prince said," she answered.

"Elaborate."

"He told us… in secret. He said that the reason the sennen items are failing—"

"Do you say they are because he told you, or because you have more information?"

"Isis told me her tauk is failing to work as well. I assumed all of the items were under the same sickness."

Her use of the word _sickness_ interested me.

"That was another question," she said. She held out her foot.

"I don't think so. Finish your answer to my first. What did Atem give you as the reason the items are… _sick_?"

"He said that there is something you need to realize."

" _Me_? And did he tell you what that something is?"

Mana shook her head. I stared her down, but eventually I caved. I unlocked her left foot. She could only give me information she held, and I had to believe that she would. I didn't want to encourage her to make up answers to appease me.

"Then I suppose I need to speak to _him_ next."

I turned to leave the dungeon.

"My liege, wait!"

I stopped, but didn't turn around.

"Aren't you going to free me? I answered your questions!"

"You haven't earned your freedom yet. I ran out of questions for you for now, but I will be back when I milk dry my other sources."

I heard Mana's sobbing echo through the hall as I walked away, and I felt a twinge in my chest at the sound. I didn't mind Mana usually. But mercy wasn't something I could hand out freely when I had a traitor to fight off.

* * *

Seto forced himself to focus on the scenery outside his window because it was easier than focusing on the teenaged boy seated on the opposite side of the car. Isono sat between them on the long limousine seat, possibly as a mercy to Seto.

Or, Seto realized, perhaps he had done it to protect the boy _from_ Seto. He still wasn't sure which side his employee was on.

"What have I missed at KC?" Mokuba asked.

Seto found hearing Mokuba's voice immensely distracting. Part of him had wished that Atem had come along for the ride, though he found the concept absurd to even think. He didn't want to rely on a crutch, especially for such a simple, stupid social situation.

What he truly wanted was to be left completely alone.

"Very little, young one," Isono said. He must have known Seto wasn't going to answer.

"Right. It's only been… what? A week?"

"While you were out," Isono began, "we've been mostly working to process the change of partnering with Schroeder."

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I should have been over there to finish the overseas transitioning. Is that getting rescheduled?"

Isono opened his mouth, but Seto elbowed him in the ribcage, forcing the air out of his lungs in a breathy cough.

"It's not your concern," Seto answered coldly. He shot a glare at Isono, which kept him silent for the remainder of the conversation.

Seto's phone vibrated. KC Headquarters came up on the ID. He lifted the phone to his face.

"Kaiba," he answered.

"Seto-sama," came the female voice of his receptionist. "Forwarding to you a call to your office line from a young Master Schroeder. You may begin speaking now."

"Kaiba," Seto said again, this time with less patience.

"It's Leon," came a boyish voice.

Seto knew who the speaker was, but only by memory, not recognition.

"What do you want?"

"I tried to call Mokuba's cell, but I got no answer. I wanted to know if he's really okay. I saw everything on the news."

 _Everything_ wasn't on the news, Seto thought. He wasn't sure if he was bitter about that, or relieved. He never liked having his laundry brought out in public for the world to rip apart, but he hated lying about a situation like this just as much. Mokuba's memory deserved to be honored, not tainted.

"Let's talk about this later," Seto said.

"Wait! Can't you just tell me if he's okay? I know they said he survived, but it's really hard to imagine someone living through—"

" _Later_ ," Seto insisted. "I'll call you back."

"You will?"

"Sometime tonight. Keep yourself available. Oh, and be prepared to pack a bag and come into town. I may need your assistance with… something."

"Of course," Leon said.

Seto couldn't tell if the boy sounded nervous or relieved. When he returned his phone to his pocket, he glanced up to see Mokuba's questioning gaze on him.

"It's none of your concern," he said again. He wondered how long he would be able to get away with saying that before the child snapped.

Then again, perhaps that was what the situation demanded. Maybe if Seto pushed him to his limits, he would finally give in and surrender the truth.

* * *

When Kaiba Manor came into view, although it was still several blocks away, Mokuba pressed his face up to the glass window. He looked as if he'd been away from home for a long time.

 _For years,_ Seto thought. The idea didn't seem right, and yet… He couldn't shake it.

He forced himself to turn away from the boy again, and it was then that Seto noticed the mob camped out at his gate.

"Stop the car," he said to the driver.

"More reporters," Isono said. "What's your plan, sir?"

"I am not parading _him_ in front of live television cameras," Seto said. "We'll leave until they get bored."

"We could always stop by Headquarters for a few hours," Mokuba said.

" _Absolutely not_ ," Seto seethed.

"Right," Isono said. "There are bound to be reporters waiting for you there as well."

Seto and his majordomo shared a look. Isono knew that wasn't Seto's concern, and the man made it clear that he understood.

"Anyhow, it will certainly take longer than a few hours for the news stations to get bored of this situation."

"Right," Seto said. "Turn around. Take us to our beach house."

A few days stuck alone with Mokuba's imposter at a beach house wouldn't be any worse than the rest of his life stuck with the child in his main house. What, really, was the difference after all?

 _Atem might join him at a beach resort._

The thought struck him from nowhere. Why did he want _that_?

"The beach house?" Mokuba asked. He didn't sound as excited at the idea as he _usually_ would have been.

"Why not?" Seto shrugged. "We can wait to get back into the swing of things."

"Okay," Mokuba mimicked Seto's shrug.

The fake lie left an unpleasant taste in Seto's mouth. He tried his best to ignore it as the car pulled away from the curb and turned around.


	19. Shrouded

A/N: This update has been a long time coming. So sorry for the delay. For anyone following Threads or checking on my profile, I'm on my way back to town to return to the grind. And, hopefully, some semblance of routine.

I won't say we're near the end of this story. But really, we have more than one story intertwined, and we're making serious headway with both of them. I hope you enjoy.

-omgagr.

* * *

Atem moved with purpose in the night. I followed him quickly, but I no longer cared about him noticing me. Eventually, as he wove his way through the gardens, his footing slowed, until finally he stopped.

His head inclined in my direction, as if listening.

When I came within earshot of him, I stopped as well.

"You must really distrust me," he said into the darkness.

"I do," I said, stepping closer.

To my surprise, Atem made no attempt to kneel, or even bow his head. Had his entire show of allegiance been a ruse?

"I am your king," I said in a low voice. "I demand you take me to your secret meeting. Now."

"No."

My hand rested on the hilt of my sword, though it would take more than a single word for me to attack my kin. Still, I pulled the blade partway out of its sheath, with deliberate force to ensure that the metallic sound was detected.

" _No?_ Be certain of your answer, because I will be exact in dealing out the consequences for disobedience."

"I am certain of my answer. Your presence would mean my 'meeting' is no longer secret. Your knowledge of the gathering also strips it of its relevance. There will be no meeting tonight, so long as you insist on attending."

My lip curled as I felt my temperature rise.

"My comrades are on orders not to make themselves known tonight if I do not arrive."

"I don't care about your comrades. I need answers from you."

"You don't yet realize what you need. Nor do you realize that I am the only one capable of helping you."

"Helping me!" I mimicked, bellowing with laughter. "For all I know, you're trying to kill me! Do you regret giving away your kingship, _your highness_? Is it not enough for a child raised as a commoner to rule this land?"

"You take your grudge against me too far, Set. I'm saddened to know you think of me in such a way."

"Then be saddened! Your feelings aside, I've been given the throne. _I_ am to be recognized as sovereign. _You_ are to do as you are commanded. But somehow I feel you're under the impression those commands do not apply to you."

"I am not."

"Then you're willing to accept the consequences of treason."

Atem closed his eyes and lowered his head.

"I… am not. I am sorry, Set. I wish to treat my own family with higher regard than this. But you leave me with little choice."

Atem raised his hand, a movement I could only just detect in the moonlight, dulled by the canopy over our heads. But I could see a glint of silver in his hand, as if he cupped the moonlight in his palm.

A flash a silver-blue light blinded me, such as I had never experienced. It faded quickly, the source unknown. I blinked away bright white spots from my eyes, struggling to readjust to the darkness. When I could finally see my surroundings again, to no surprise Atem was gone.

A distant pattering of footsteps fading away told me he hadn't disappeared, but merely escaped.

I did not give chase.

* * *

"Where did you get the item you passed off to Atem?" I asked Mana next.

I couldn't tell her before she spoke, but the answer would buy her freedom if she would give it.

Mana shook her head.

"I can't tell you. I'm sworn to secrecy."

I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Then your whereabouts will remain a secret until you answer the question. No matter how many days, or seasons, or _years_ that takes."

The young girl's expression didn't change. She already appeared distraught. The dungeon was wearing on her, but still she refused to give in.

"You don't have to do this," she said in a whisper. "We're only trying to help you."

"Then why be so secretive? Why can you not answer my one question?"

"I've answered all of your questions!" she cried. Maybe she'd tried to shout, but her voice was too broken.

I laughed, a loud, bellowing sound that seemed to shake the cavern halls.

"But you've given me nothing of the information I seek!"

Mana remained silent.

"Who gave you the item Atem held in his hand when I saw you two together?"

She only stared. With all of the girl's usual strength and enthusiasm, I had never seen her so weary.

"Fine. If you will not tell me who, then tell me what the item _does_."

"The item is shrouded in secrets. I don't know all of its powers."

"Be more specific. You know _something_."

She answered in a breath so light I might have imagined the sound.

"Time."

"Pardon?"

"It changes time."

"Changes it? How?"

Only the sennen items were said to have strong powers, and none of them, as far as I understood, could alter time.

"I don't understand it. But for that purpose, it can only be used once."

I found the answer intriguing, but not useful to me. I set the thought aside for later.

"What is Atem planning to do with it?" I asked.

Mana hung her head.

"Just go. You'll never set me free. And once the Prince uses the item, he'll never be able to come for me."

"If you don't have the answer, just tell me."

"I only have part of it. But if I tell you, you'll be angry. You'll leave, and no one will come for me again. So just go now, before I give you the one piece you need to foil the Prince's plan."

"Tell me the extent of his plan that you know, and I can be the one to decide if I need to foil it."

Mana's eyes rose to meet mine. But they appeared so empty and cold from the days in the dungeon. Whatever she believed Atem was about to do, she was willing to accept it.

Whatever act Atem was about to fulfill, he was willing to leave her missing to perform it.

I unlocked Mana's last leg, leaving bound only the chain around her neck.

"Tell me, and you will be set free. Is your life that worthless to you, that you would keep silent and die?"

"No. But yours is that valuable to Atem. And if this is what he wishes, then it is what I will do."

Atem was not one to abandon a subject, much less a friend. Not anyone. And yet, he was willing to leave Mana on her own, never having learned her whereabouts, for me?

The realization left my hands shaking.

I handed the guard the key to the last lock, and left the dungeon again.

* * *

I spied Atem in the courtyard gardens again. A graven expression haunted his face. Two others gathered around him, a woman and a man. Isis and Shada, I gathered, but I couldn't tell for certain in the darkness. They whispered in low voices such that I could not hear, but as I crept closer words began to float to me.

"...must be worried after her," the woman spoke.

"Terribly so," Atem replied.

"His hands are tied," said the male. "What can be done for her?"

"Be calm, my friends. I have faith that she cannot be far."

 _Mana_ , I thought. If only Atem would tell me what I wish to know. If only he would cease his secret meetings, I would deliver the girl in a moment. I might even consider offering my share of remorse.

"How can you know with such conviction?" the man asked. I was certain it was Shada who spoke.

"I cannot say. But I trust no harm shall befall her in my family's kingdom. She will be protected."

My feet froze in place. Did Atem know I was near, that I was hearing him? Did he believe he was speaking to me? I would not be surprised if he had _guessed_ I held his friend in my dungeons, but I refused to believe in his certainty.

But enough had been enough. I peered over my shoulder to the two guards standing watch some ways behind me, well equipped with torches and swords. I slid a dagger from its sheath and flashed a glimmer of moonlight at each, a signal.

I emerged from the shrubbery I stalked behind, blade tucked flat against my wrist.

Isis and Shada leapt at my sudden appearance, but Atem only guarded himself.

"Set," he said, his tone dark.

I leapt toward him, my forearm pressing against his chest, pinning him back against a stone pillar. With my other hand I held my blade to his neck.

Somewhere behind me, Isis cried out. Shada risked a hand on my shoulder, but my guards shuffled in. One yanked Shada away from me.

"Did you think I was going to let this go on in front of my face?" I asked Atem in a low tone.

He chuckled, loud and deep.

My guards remained a few paces away, but I could feel them both shift.

"You cannot even see what this obsession of yours is doing to you," Atem said. "You've turned on your own family, of your own accord."

" _I_ turned on _you_? I think you have it backwards, Atem."

"If only I could show you, in this moment, that your _family_ is on your side, even more than you are."

"I cannot fathom what you mean by that."

"Not now, of course. I pray that you give me time enough for you to find your answers. Or perhaps I will be able to bring them to you myself."

"Have I not asked after your answers long enough?"

Atem only smiled.

I pressed my blade tighter. Enough for him to feel the pressure, for me to detect the slightest pulsing of his blood, but did not draw it across his skin.

My guards now stood over my shoulder. From the flickering of their torches I noted a glint in my cousin's eyes that caused even me to waver.

Backed against a wall, a dagger to his neck. His friends forced away, helpless before him. Guards at either side, weapons prepared.

And _still_ , he stared at me like that?

"I implore you," I said with a tight jaw, "to drop this shroud of darkness. Do you wish to die in defiance?"

"You misunderstand my intentions. I do not wish for _you_ to die."

"Do you think you can kill me?" The thought was so absurd it nearly brought me to laughter, but the moment was too honest, too focused for me to do so.

"No. But I do not speak of bloodshed. You will live a worthless life without what I can bring you."

A shiver ran down my back. I shook it away as a fragment of the night air.

Atem stole the moment to raise his hand. I saw a glint of silver.

A flash of white light.

Atem's form dissolved from under my hands.


	20. Suspicions

_Previously: Mokuba was released from the hospital to care for his remaining wounds at home, but the front gates of the Kaiba mansion are crawling with reporters starving to tell the story of Mokuba's miraculous survival, and Seto decides that they'll wait the news staff out at a vacation home._

 _Seto recalls his latter dreams in which Set finally confronts Atem about his secret meetings. But rather than face the consequences of committing treason against the Pharaoh Set, Atem vanishes into thin air._

A/N: Thanks for your patience as I return to a story I hadn't meant to put down. The next chapter is nearly ready to go, as well. Thank you for your support, and as always, your feedback. I hope you continue to enjoy as we press on.

-omgagr

* * *

The limousine pulled into the long driveway of the Kaibas' beach house. As soon as Seto unlocked the doors and went inside, he slipped into his own room and closed the door behind him. He began to unpack the overnight bag he'd used at the hospital.

Seto knew he would get tired of wearing the same few sets of clothes, along with the few sets always kept at the beach house, but perhaps that would just serve to push him forward into finding some answers so he could return to his life.

As soon as he unpacked his own bags again, he made a call to the Kame Game Shop.

"Kame Game Shop," someone on the other end answered.

"I'm calling for Atem," he said.

"Sure…" the other voice hesitated. "Is this Kaiba?"

"It is," Seto answered.

"Hold on. I'll get him for you."

A few seconds passed before he recognized the voice as Honda's, but it didn't seem to matter. In the next moment another voice came through the speaker.

"Kaiba?" Atem asked. "With what may I assist you?"

"My home is being hounded by reporters."

"That sounds distressing. I'm sorry to hear that, but I should think you would be accustomed to such disruptions, being who you are."

"I am, but this is different. I'm not interested in feeding the media's stories until I'm confident I've gotten mine sorted out. That being said, I haven't been able to go home. As it is, I'm stuck in a weekend home on the outskirts of town for the time being. The reason I'm calling is because I could use someone to keep…" Seto struggled in saying his brother's name, but he choked it out the best he could, " _Mokuba_ occupied while I work on getting a few thing straightened out."

"May I presume this is an invitation?"

"It is," he said simply.

Seto planned only Atem initially, but he knew the others would turn up with him anyway, so he put the offer on the table himself.

"You may bring whomever else you would like. The house is right on the beach, with swimming access. The busier he can be kept, the more work I can accomplish with the time."

"I see. Unfortunately, my friends and I are helping Yugi's grandfather unload a shipment of stock. He's been left to handle the shop alone the past few days, and it seems work has caught up with him. We've promised to help him catch up."

"How long would you expect that to take?"

"The rest of the afternoon without question. But we could be persuaded to drop by tomorrow, so long as the need is still present."

Seto cringed at the answer. For the first time since meeting the group, he wished they were already present. He felt a looming sense of dread beginning to overwhelm him, and letting Mokuba roam around freely with no one else to accompany him only increased the feeling.

"That sounds fine," Seto replied. It would have to do.

Seto offered directions, and Atem accepted the invitation. After he had finished with the call, there was a knock on his bedroom door, and Seto was loathe to answer it. But he forced himself off his bed where he had seated himself and stalked to the door.

Mokuba had dressed himself in a comfortable-looking shirt and shorts, but not the outfit Seto's brother typically put on the moment they arrived at the beach house during vacations—his swim trunks and a sleeveless shirt, regardless of whether he planned to swim.

Seto did not dismiss the fact.

"I'm hungry," Mokuba said before Seto could speak.

"You know where the food is," he answered, an eyebrow raised.

Mokuba's face fell, but he seemed to be trying to cover his disappointment.

"I was hoping we could make something together," he said, lightness in his tone.

 _Because we had such a ritual of doing so before_ , Seto thought sarcastically.

"I have business to take care of," he answered.

"But you have to eat, too."

"I'm not very hungry," Seto replied as an understatement. Eating had been the last thing on his mind, and the thought of it made his stomach churn. "Eat without me. When you're done you should go outside and get some sun." _And get away from me,_ Seto thought.

"By myself?" he whined.

"I have work to do. This isn't a vacation for me."

"Then why are we even here?" he demanded, sounding exasperated.

Seto narrowed his eyes. "To avoid the onslaught of reporters outside our home. You saw them."

"What kind of work?" the boy asked, changing the subject as if backpedaling.

Seto almost said it was none of his business, but if he _were_ speaking to Mokuba, that would be a lie. Kaiba Corp affairs were his business, and Seto would usually involve him in them.

"You'll know when it's relevant to you," Seto said as calmly as he could manage, though he felt his tone rising.

He sent the teenager away, and little time passed before he heard loud music muffled through the walls. Glad the teenager was occupied for a moment, Seto ventured into the living room where the sound of the booming music didn't carry as well. He sat down and returned Leon von Schroeder's call.

"Yes?" Leon answered halfway through the second ring.

"How quickly would you be able to make it to Domino?" Seto asked without bothering with introductions. Getting Leon on board with the situation might help him gain ground.

"Oh. Well… if I say it's for the business—it _is_ for the business, right?"

"…Yeah. Whatever."

"Okay. I'll let my brother know. I'll have someone take me in the jet. I should be there…" there was a pause on the line while Leon figured something. "Tomorrow morning, your time. Is that okay?"

"That's fine."

Seto almost told the boy to 'be careful' before he caught himself trying to be brotherly. He told himself the crash had shaken his confidence in flying machines. But part of him wondered if whoever had set out to destroy his life was done with their job yet.

* * *

Seto made a point of keeping to his bedroom for the rest of the afternoon, resorting even to locking the door.

He took a long shower, then settled down at his desk and poured over some paperwork for Kaiba Corp. The contracts Mokuba had been going to Germany to deliver all had to be re-written, the applicable dates and deadlines changed after the incident, and Seto went to work on the monotonous task. He could have delegated it, but it was something to do and he needed to keep busy.

When he felt ready for a break, he pulled out a laptop. He avoided any links to news articles as images of the smoking crash covered the front page of his browser. He instead logged into his security account to check the video feeds from the camera at his main house.

One camera caught a view of the front gates, and he zoomed in. The front was still flooded with reporters, but the crowd seemed to be thinning out. What media remained were camping out, appearing bored. Seto guessed he had three days to wait them out completely before he could go home.

There was a knock on his bedroom door, then a rattling of the handle. Seto waited a moment, glad he had locked the knob. A few seconds of silence passed, and the knocking came again, more quietly.

"Nii-sama?" Mokuba's voice called. "Please open the door. I need to talk to you."

Seto sat still for nearly half a minute. He hoped the child would go away, but he heard no footsteps.

"Nii-sama?" the boy called, louder this time, though his voice sounded as close to breaking as Seto's resolve felt.

His fingers twitched on the arm of his office chair. He didn't want to open the door—he hadn't yet figured out how to act around the child. Should he pretend he suspected nothing and be kind to the child, in case he was wrong? Or should he behave the way he felt inside and continue shutting him out?

Seto had done both already, and suspected that—whether he was right or wrong—the child would be as confused as Seto felt. His heart ached terribly through the grief and the fear, and when the child spoke again, Seto broke.

"Please," he begged, followed by a _thump_ against the door, as if he leaned his head against the door.

Seto could picture the other side of the door clearly in his mind, Mokuba's pitiful expression when he was ready to cry, pawing at a locked door as he begged for comfort.

Seto's instincts overrode his grudge, and he found himself halfway across the room reaching for the door before he realized what he was doing. He stopped, took a deep breath, and unlocked the knob.

The sound must have alerted the child before Seto opened the door. He did appear like he'd been leaning on the door, looking startled. His eyes were red and glassy, but his cheeks, and even the edge of the gauze taped under one eye, were dry. Like he'd been fighting back tears the way Mokuba always did.

"Nii-sama," Mokuba said, both relief and pain in his voice.

"What's wrong?" Seto asked, fighting to keep himself distant.

Mokuba wiped at the corners of his eyes with his sleeves, then hid his hands behind his back. It seemed as if he were ashamed he'd let a few tears slip, and was trying to pretend it hadn't happened. It wasn't a behavior Seto was used to seeing from his younger brother, but he'd always tried to teach him to be strong, not to cry.

"You never even hugged me," Mokuba demanded. The relief had vanished from his face, replaced by anger.

Seto didn't know how to respond.

"Not even in the hospital. I was so happy to see you, but we haven't even talked. I know I screwed up by not delivering the contracts, but are you that angry with me over it?"

Seto realized with a start that there was nothing inauthentic about the tone, or the words, or even the glare in his eyes. The boy felt like _him_ , and Seto's heart shattered.

He dropped to his knees and wrapped his long arms around Mokuba's back, tugging him as close as he could. Seto managed a deep, shaky breath, and inhaled the scent of his baby brother's hair as it wired around Seto's face.

Mokuba wrapped his arms around Seto's broad shoulders. Only moments into the embrace, Seto felt a warm wetness soak into the shoulder of his sweater. Mokuba began to rock with sobs.

Seto had no words, no apology or excuses. He still believed he was right, and there was no way his brother could have been brought back from the dead. But his body and his instincts fought his mind as the brothers clung to one another.

His mind raced to rationalize what he was seeing against what he had already seen. But suddenly the image of the limp and bloody corpse, flesh made of grey rubber, and the memory of the weight of it in his arms, refused to leave his mind.

Mokuba had _died_ , his body destroyed. No matter what kind of medical miracles he'd heard of, he could not rationalize this. He pushed the boy away.

"I can't do this," he whispered. He nearly added, _You're not my brother_ , but he couldn't get the words out.

Mokuba looked jarred, as if Seto had already slammed the door in his face.

"I'm sorry," Seto said, though he wasn't sure why.

He understood his need to embrace Mokuba's form one last time, as if he were saying goodbye, but he doubted he would give in to the urge again.

Mokuba stared at Seto as he stood, tears now streaking down his face. His bandage was soaked and tinted pink as the raw flesh beneath it continued to weep. He turned suddenly and dashed away.

Seto heard the boy's sobs as he carried himself down the hall, but when he reached his room and slammed the door, the noise ceased completely.

Silence filled the walls of the house, leaving Seto standing in his bedroom doorway, blinking. It all felt so surreal a moment ago, but the strange quiet left Seto feeling as if the whole thing were a charade. The tears were real, Seto could still feel them on his shirt. But the whole moment felt fabricated somehow, and Seto nearly expected to catch the sound of sinister laughter coming from his brother's bedroom.

Seto abandoned the doorway, leaving the door ajar, and walked numbly to his bed, sitting down on the edge. He no longer knew how to trust his senses, and he had no energy left to sort through what was real and what his fevered mind could imagine.


	21. Visitor

Seto awoke in the middle of the night to find he'd drifted off in his clothes, on top of the covers on his bed. But he felt more concerned that he had left his bedroom door not only unlocked, but wide open. He couldn't trust the other member of his house.

He couldn't pinpoint the exact reason he felt unsafe leaving his door unlocked while he slept, but even since Seto had seen the newsreel, he hadn't had a waking moment's relief from the looming feeling of dread. _Something_ strange was happening in his life, and nothing strange that happened to him was ever small.

Seto stood up, straightened his clothes, and lightly tread out of his room. He stopped in the hallway, hearing a faint trace of repetitive music from behind his brother's closed door. He recognized the music as the menu screen of a video game Mokuba hadn't played in years.

Hearing the music wasn't enough to know whether Mokuba was still in his room or not, and Seto had a strong desire to know where the child was before he could go back to sleep. Walking as lightly as he could without needing to tip-toe, he wandered into the main area of the house.

Seto always liked his offices, shut in and private from all sides, so he hadn't really approved of the living area's openness in the blueprints when he and Mokuba had designed their vacation house. But now that he was trying to find the child, he appreciated the ability to see into the living room, dining room, kitchen, and even out onto the patio, with one sweeping glance. Instead of walls, strategically placed furniture and counters separated the space of each room.

Satisfied that the main house was empty, Seto relaxed into believing that Mokuba had fallen asleep in his bed with his television on.

He found himself a chilled bottle of water from the refrigerator and drank half of it in a few long swigs.

He ventured to the glass patio doors which overlooked the beach, taking a few moments to enjoy the moonlit calm of the night—as well as he could enjoy anything in the moment. The sea gently lapped at the edges of the beach, the crashing of the waves just faintly audible across the sand and through the closed glass doors.

He turned from the patio and as he passed through the kitchen on his way back to the hall, he noticed a few dark shapes on the kitchen counter. Leaning in closer to inspect, he realized the shapes were open boxes of crackers and chips scattered across the counter top. Beside them sat a container of juice with its cap missing.

"Mokuba knows better," he muttered with a scoff, shoving the containers aside, although he didn't put them away. It was such a small matter, but something about it unsettled him.

He carried his water bottle with him as he returned to his room. He made sure to lock the door behind him this time, and readied himself for bed.

* * *

As rays of gentle sunlight danced through a crack in the drapes, Seto lay in bed on the fringes of waking and sleep, and trying not to give in to consciousness and his sea of unwanted thoughts. The faint sound of a car door slamming roused him from any notions of getting more sleep.

He sat up, blinking through the sunlight. His bedroom window overlooked the beach rather than the front driveway, so he threw on a shirt and jeans and scurried into the living area.

On the wall opposite the patio doors was the beach house's rarely used front door, a set of decorative blinds perpetually closed over its large glass window. Seto peered through to see, as promised, Leon von Schroeder standing at the end of the long driveway, waving at a taxi as it pulled away.

Seto ventured outside to meet him before he could knock.

"Good to see you again," Leon chirped. He slung a well-loved leather backpack over one shoulder.

Seto nodded as a greeting, but his expression was vacant.

"You don't have any bags?" he asked.

"I've already unpacked in my hotel room. I wasn't going to assume you were putting me up."

"It wouldn't have mattered."

Leon shrugged. "My brother's writing this whole trip off as a business expense. Although, he is expecting me to return with some files and contracts? He said you would know what he means."

"Fine. I'll have them ready for you," he said, gland he had already re-worked them.

Seto led Leon up the driveway, though he dispensed with any further formalities.

"I have a request from you while you're here," he said over his shoulder. "I need you to monitor my brother."

"So he is alright?" Leon asked hopefully.

Seto didn't address the question. "Note his behavior, as specific as his tone and word choice, his expressions and any other body language that strikes you as odd, or… unfitting."

"…Alright," Leon hesitated. "But why?"

"If I tell you why, then your assistance will no longer be useful. I want you to compartmentalize any information if you find something that seems out of place for him. Take notes if you have to."

"Is he alright?"

"Physically he seems to be recovering just fine. But I want someone around who has known my brother well, and has paid attention to him at the kind of social level that I do."

Leon stopped in front of the door as Seto held it open.

"That's why you asked me here?"

"If you need to get creative trying to explain to your brother how this can be considered a business meeting, I won't mind."

He led Leon inside, and Seto gestured to the hallway where the brothers resided.

"His room is on the left."

Seto ventured into the living room, where he looked on, craning his neck to watch the exchange as Leon knocked on Mokuba's bedroom door.

Mokuba blinked at Leon, and Seto wondered if he was struggling to recognize his friend. But a brief moment passed and a grin spread over Mokuba's face. He clapped Leon with a high-five that turned into a hearty handshake that Seto would never let pass at a formal business meeting.

"How are you feeling?" Leon asked.

Mokuba shrugged. Seto noticed him glance briefly in his direction, but Seto refused to look away or pretend he wasn't trying to overhear the exchange.

"Achy." He gestured to his cheek. "A little torn up. But I'm okay."

Leon let out a loud sigh and pulled Mokuba into a tight, friendly hug, though it only lasted a few seconds.

"What are you doing here?" Mokuba asked, pulling away.

"I called Kaiba Corp and got your brother. I invited myself. I needed to see if you were alright. I wasn't getting any information from the news."

"Seto's not letting the media see me right now," Mokuba said in a low voice.

"Why?"

Mokuba stole another glance at Seto, who continued to watch the pair openly. He glanced over his shoulder into his bedroom, then waved Leon inside.

Feeling irritated, Seto thought quickly. He called out to Mokuba, who stopped, still in the doorway.

"I expected better hospitality than that. Shouldn't you offer your guest something to eat? You haven't had breakfast, either."

Mokuba stared at his brother a few long moments. Then he said something too quiet for Seto to hear, and he couldn't tell if it was meant for Leon, or just uttered under his breath. But he stepped out of his room and led Leon into the kitchen.

Leon tried to protest as Mokuba rummaged through the refrigerator, but a sharp glare from Seto shut him up. Mokuba made a simple breakfast for the boys, not bothering to offer Seto anything—though he wouldn't have accepted anyway. They ate together, Leon stealing glances at Seto and trying to force conversation out of Mokuba, but Seto couldn't pinpoint anything out of the ordinary during the meal.

Mokuba refused to speak about Seto's aversion to the media in front of Seto, despite Leon continually—though subtly—steering the conversation back again and again.

"I'd like to show Leon one of my new games in my room, if that's alright," Mokuba said when their plates were cleared.

Seto didn't miss the irritation in his voice.

Was Mokuba angry at him for pushing him away, Seto wondered, or was the imposter retaliating for being called out? Either way, Mokuba made it clear he returned Seto's anger.

"You may," he relented.

He couldn't eavesdrop on the child all day long, but Leon served as his spy. He had to let them have their privacy if he was going to get anything useful out of the visit.

When the two boys had gone into Mokuba's room, Seto settled in at the breakfast bar and started a pot of coffee, but was startled to see that Mokuba had left his plate and empty glass on the counter, while Leon, a guest, had bothered to put his into the dishwasher.

Barely an hour after Leon arrived, Seto watched through a living room window as an old white car pulled into the driveway. Yugi's small frame was at the wheel, the car jammed with all of his friends.

Moments later, Mokuba and Leon left his room, both dressed for swimming. Mokuba poked his head out of the front door and gestured for them to walk around to the beach, and he led Leon through the living room, kitchen, and out the back patio doors.

Mokuba said nothing to Seto as he passed by without a glance in his direction.

* * *

Seto, satisfied that Mokuba's team of friends were hard at work keeping him busy, settled in at the desk in his bedroom. He flipped his laptop open, and while waiting for it to boot up he punched a phone number in on the dial pad on the desktop. Pressing the receiver to his ear, he swiveled his chair to see out the window onto the beach.

On only the second ring, the phone call connected.

"Yes, Seto-sama?"

"Isono. Have the media piranhas infiltrated Kaiba Corp Headquarters yet?"

"Ah… No, Sir. The occasional individual reporter has made it as far as the front desk in the lobby, but security is keeping them at bay."

"Good. Speaking of security, has anything out of the ordinary come to your attention?"

"In regard to anything specific?"

"If you need me to specify then you haven't come across anything that would interest me."

"If we detect anything major you will be the first to know."

"That's what I'm asking for."

"Very good. While I have you on the line, Sir, there is one thing I'd like to mention."

"So, mention it."

"I have noticed a few reports going around in the news—not on the front page of any papers, of course—that the young von Schroeder boy has come to Domino as the spokesperson for Schroeder Corp."

"And?"

"The media has caught wind that he's paying you a visit."

Seto sat forward. "Does the media state they know where I am?"

"Not that I have seen. They noted that Leon checked into your hotel early this morning, but it seems that they lost interest after that."

"I should hope so. He took a taxi here. If he was followed, I might have a problem, although I suppose I would know by now if that were the case."

"Is there anything you would like me to do about this situation?"

"I don't see that there's anything you can do. If he was followed, he was followed. I'll have to talk to the media eventually. I would just prefer to have a little time to work the situation out before I'm forced to do so. I suppose there's no point in being concerned about whatever the news is saying about Leon."

"I agree. Is there anything else I can do for you, Sir?"

Seto allowed himself to relax into his seat again.

"Not now. Just keep monitoring security and update me if anything changes."

"Yes, Sir."

Seto spun his chair and replaced the receiver. He logged into his laptop to be greeted by the web page he'd left open from the day before. He frowned at the screen and closed his browser. In seeking out his legal options to put any distance between himself and the child, Seto hadn't found any viable solutions.

He was no longer interested in watching the child pretend to play outside his window. He already felt the imposter was too close to him, but he didn't know how to get away.

 _Unless_ , Seto realized, _I don't have to be the one to leave._

He'd sent Mokuba away once. He could do it again. No one was likely to think twice about it, and he would have a small bit of peace to think.

Without hesitating, Seto picked up the phone again and hit the 'redial' button. Isono answered in just half a ring.

"Yes, Seto-sama?"

"Does Kaiba Corp have any more overseas projects going on?"

"Ah…" Isono hesitated while the clicking of a keyboard sounded in the background. "We have plenty, of course. Were you looking for a specific group?"

"Anything, really, but preferably small projects."

There was another lull, as it seemed that Isono was scanning his screen.

"We do have a research group traveling various areas of global terrain to test the range of the duel satellites."

"That sounds harmless enough. How much access to the KC computer system do the participants need?"

"Quite a bit. Each tester will be given an ID tag that can be used to track their location, and a tablet to access the system in order to input the data they uncover."

"I don't think that's what I'm looking for. What else?"

"We're also sending a few teams of duelists, older teenagers mostly, around the United States on a Duel Disk System tour to promote the newest version."

"Right, _that_."

The tour had been Mokuba's idea.

"This project is more of a meet-and-greet and show-and-tell, so it doesn't require the participants to have anything more than a duelist's ID and the permission of a parental guardian."

"What kind of security is being assigned to the tour?"

"Each bus will be manned by two security guards."

"This tour wasn't scheduled to start for another few months, was it?"

"That is incorrect. The first tour begins five weeks from yesterday."

Seto fell silent. Five weeks felt like too long a time to buck up and deal with the child he knew he couldn't take care of.

"How long does one tour last?" he asked.

"Each of the participants will be on the road for one month."

Seto considered. Five weeks of waiting for four weeks of peace. It might be enough time for him to come up with something else.

"Mokuba has been in charge of the planning. Sign him up for the first tour. Do you need my signature to verify my permission?"

"I'll have a permission slip ready for you on your desk when you return. Is there… any particular reason you want the boy to join this tour?"

"I don't think he needs to mope around at home too long."

"And you realize, of course, that there will be an airplane trip to send the participants—"

"Of _course_ I am aware of that. Why else do you think I'm sending him? With how often we travel for business, Mokuba would cripple himself by allowing himself to fear flying," Seto said, thinking up the argument on the spot.

"So you're getting him back up on the horse. I see. I do believe the tour is well suited to his strengths of public speaking. Then, if that is your wish, I will take care of the details and get him signed up. Will that be all?"

"For now, yes," Seto conceded and ended the call once more.

Five weeks felt like an eternity away, but if that was all he could come up with, he would have to suffer through.

One last check on the security stream at his front gate told Seto very few of the reporters had given up since the last time he logged in. Frowning, he closed the lid of his laptop and faced the window again, letting the gleaming sunshine warm his face.

If his only remaining move was to bide his time, he would take it for all it was worth.


	22. Holding Onto Strings

The following series of chapters has been giving me some trouble that has made updating difficult. With other irons in the fire as well, this story has been put on an unofficial hold. But thankfully I've now been able to get the next several chapters sorted out and nearly ready for upload. So, this mini-hiatus can officially be considered over. Yay! Thank you all for your patience and support as always! I hope you enjoy.

~omgagr

Seto lay reclined in his beach chair in the shade of his back patio awning, dark shades covering his eyes and an iced drink in one hand. He wore khaki and a white shirt, the top left unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up nearly to his elbows. He wore no belt or tie, nor any sandals on his bare feet.

Outwardly, he appeared to be amusing himself by watching his sibling play in the water with a handful of friends twenty yards in front of him.

He'd decided to give the facade a try.

The beach house lay on the nearest beach just outside of Domino, near the harbor that lie on the outskirts of his home city. He liked to bring Mokuba along, naturally, but under the circumstances he couldn't call it a vacation, or even a retreat. An escape, a plan for stalling the inevitable, perhaps. But no vacation.

Seto glanced out at the ocean. He didn't want to create the semblance of a neglectful guardian, so he pretended to watch Mokuba as the boy danced and played in the water with the crowd of friends. The boy appeared to be his happy little brother.

Seto wished it was true. He suddenly felt very tired.

He heard the faint sound of sand being kicked up as footsteps approached, and silently thanked whoever that he'd decided to wear shades. He'd worn them for a reason. He may own the house where he was vacationing as well as the lot it sat on, but he _was_ on a public beach, after all. He had to expect visitors, and unfortunately he couldn't call them out for trespassing.

"You look especially comfortable, Kaiba," a deep voice spoke. "I'm not sure I've ever seen you _relaxing_."

He didn't bother to lift his sunglasses; he knew very well who the voice belonged to.

"There's a first time for everything, I suppose," Seto said flatly.

Both men knew well that relaxing was the furthest thing from Seto's mind.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Seto asked, peering up at his visitor.

"You invited me, Kaiba. Or have you already forgotten?"

"I invited you as a buffer for _him_."

"I see. Regardless of your goal, he seems to be sufficiently occupied. As for myself…"

Atem gestured to the beach where Seto could make out the distant figures of Yugi and his little group of friends practically _frolicking_ in the water. He noticed an unfamiliar figure with them—a pale, stick-thin thing.

Seto didn't spot the bound silver hair, darkened by the dripping moisture, which trailed down her back in a long braid, until she spun away and dove majestically under the surface.

He realized he was staring and his attention snapped back to Atem.

"I don't feel tremendously interested in swimming, and I felt I was being a bit of a downer to my friends by not participating."

"So you felt it appropriate to come bother me?"

Atem chuckled lightly in response. Finally, Seto pulled the shades off of his face, folding them and placing them on the table beside him, along with his nearly empty iced drink. He stood, reaching a remarkable height even without his usual boots.

Atem was shirtless, wearing nothing more than a slim pair of black swimming trunks. He had a white towel draped over his shoulders, but his trunks were dry, and he did not appear to have gone in the water.

"Is she well enough to exert that much effort?"

Atem shrugged. He gestured back to the water. "Is _he_?"

Seto stared down at Atem blankly.

"You don't care if he re-injures himself, do you?"

"I would rather not discuss him," Seto said with a heavy sigh.

"I wish I could say I understand. However…" Atem shook his head. "You've made it clear it is not my place." He glanced out over the water, where Leon leapt onto Mokuba's shoulders, pulling them underwater together. "I do wonder, though…"

Seto ignored the unfinished thought and flipped his glasses on again. He frowned as he watched the boys bob up again, Mokuba twisting around and shouting something at Leon. Seto leaned against the siding of his home, knowing Atem wasn't a man easily dismissed.

"Why is it, I'm curious, that you've been letting your dear brother associate with the Schroeder boy?"

Seto looked him over with an evaluating stare. He turned toward the patio doors, kicking the sand off his bare feet. Before stepping over the threshold into the kitchen, Seto shot a quick glance over his shoulder. He wasn't sure what a last look at the boy who used to be his brother would get him, but he couldn't stop the reflex.

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and pulled off his glasses again. He let his hand rest on the handle of the sliding screen, an indication for Atem to follow him.

Atem stepped into the chilled air of the room, running his hands over his bare arms.

"Why are _you_ here?" Seto asked, sliding the door shut behind Atem.

"You already said. I'm here as a buffer."

"And why does that work? Why didn't I just assign a handful of security guards to keep him busy and out of my hair?"

"He wouldn't care for that kind of treatment. He's… more content this way. Around friends."

Seto caught Atem's eye and shrugged. "Any more questions?"

"You're saying he considers Leon a friend. How did that happen? I thought you held a strong sense of disdain for the family. Aren't you and the von Schroeder family business rivals?"

"Don't make me laugh," Seto barked. "For me to consider _them_ my rivals, they would have to pose a threat in the first place."

Atem smirked. "I see. They're not dangerous enough for you to fear them."

"There's very little in this world capable of making me feel fear. Especially these days," he added quietly.

Seto pulled two glasses from the cabinet and filled them with ice. Then he pulled from the refrigerator a pitcher of iced tea and poured two glasses.

Atem took the glass Seto held out to him, taking a sip. He followed Seto to the plush leather sofa in the living area behind them.

An open briefcase of envelopes sat on the edge of the sofa. A small wire wastebasket sat between the sofa and the coffee table, nearly filled with torn scraps of paper.

"I apologize," Seto said without meaning. "I had meant to finish sorting these earlier."

Atem plucked an envelope out of the briefcase and examined it. "What are these?"

Seto placed his glass on the table and gathered the stray envelopes and cards, grabbing the one from Atem's hand. He placed them into the briefcase and flipped its lid closed.

"My publicity has skyrocketed, especially since our duel," Seto said. He had been pleased to see his loyal fans hadn't forgotten him. "At least half of those are fan mail for me."

"There are a lot of cards here. I wouldn't have thought people still send mail through the postal system to the king of technology."

"I've been flooded with messages online, too. I expected to get some extra attention after our match, but I didn't anticipate such a huge increase in publicity. Online forums everywhere re-posted the footage. My email is entirely flooded, and I've had the paper mail piling up at home forwarded here. These letters are just from the last couple of days."

"Even considering the way you addressed the reporters? That seemed to concern you."

"Even so," he nodded. "I'm confident the news stations will be seeking a public apology that they'll never hear from me. But I will be calling an official press conference to address the families of the deceased."

"I'm glad to hear it." Atem watched as Seto moved the letters and wastebasket out of the way.

"You said half of those letters were fan mail. And what of the other half? The ones you're throwing away?"

Seto's face twisted into a grimace. "Get-well cards. For _him_."

"He must be comforted in knowing his fans care about his well-being."

Seto picked up his glass and settled in across from Atem, but his churning stomach didn't allow him to take a drink. Perhaps he could handle a drink of water, he thought.

"Is it too cold in here for you?" Seto asked, watching Atem set down the chilled glass to rub at his arms. He didn't care, but it was something to stop the silence and change the topic.

"I am accustomed to the heat," he said, flashing a look out the window into the bright sunlight.

"Must be tough," Seto said, but made no effort to accommodate him.

Atem chuckled and shook his head, pulling his towel over his chest like a cloak.

There was a minute of silence while Atem sat with his drink. Seto returned to the kitchenette to retrieve a box of biscuits from a cabinet and dished them out on a serving plate. He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and set the plate on the small table between the seats. Seto's brows were furrowed, thinking hard about something while he went about his task.

Atem glanced past Seto, through the glass patio doors behind him.

"Siegfried von Schroeder is not my favorite person in the world. But a few years ago when Schroeder declared bankruptcy and offered to sell me his corporation, he became less of a thorn in my side and more of a general nuisance. It would have been a perfect resolution if he'd relented his efforts against my livelihood and then simply made himself invisible."

"I trust that is not what happened?"

"He, quite unfortunately, does insist on making _social calls_ ," Seto said, his lip curled into a grimace.

"I see," he chuckled. "And that is how the boys came to be friendly with one another?"

"That's about the size of it. Mokuba's trip to Germany was mostly to oversee the management in Kaiba Corp's newest international branch, formerly Schroeder Corp. But the trip wasn't intended to be strictly business for him. The two of them had planned a few outings as well."

Seto opened the bottle of water and took a sip. He hoped it would be enough to calm his stomach, but it didn't seem to have any effect at all.

"The distance must have made getting to know each other a little difficult."

"There's money on both sides of the water, so they visited fairly frequently. No one skimped on airfare."

"And you don't have a problem with their friendship?"

"Leon is the only one in his family with the aspirations to become something great on his own. Now that Schroeder Corp is being disassembled, he's not riding on anyone's coattails or trying to mimic the success of someone else, like his father or brother always have. Mokuba had been a good friend to him, but he doesn't need any hand-outs from us."

"Friends are an invaluable asset. At least _one_ of you Kaiba's gets that," he said with a smirk. "So then why is Leon here? Who invited him?"

"I did."

"For what purpose? You have a handful of us acting as your "buffer". Are we not enough?"

"Leon and Mokuba have been very close friends. Much closer than you."

Atem paused, as if he were examining the biscuit in his hand.

"Then Leon is here to monitor your brother? To _spy_ on him for you? Kaiba, you would even turn your brother's _friend_ against him?"

"He's _not_ my—" Seto raised a hand to rub at his forehead, as if that would help ease his mounting headache. "Listen. You clearly don't see eye-to-eye with me on this issue, so why don't you drop it? I don't need you constantly criticizing my actions and responses because you think I'm being cruel."

"You do seem like you're being cruel."

"Believe me, I'm being as kind and compassionate to that… _child_ as I can bear to be. If that's not enough for you then that's your problem. I haven't harmed him. Nothing I've done has qualified as something for which the courts would take him away from me."

"And that would be terribly tragic for you, wouldn't it?" Atem accused.

"I earned my business reputation for my efforts improving the lives of the children in my city. What would it mean for my name if word got out that the child in my care were removed from me?"

"Then it's your reputation you're most worried about?"

"My reputation is all I have left."


	23. Rolling Out Pawns

"Even if you haven't directly harmed the child, what about what you haven't done?" Atem demanded. "You've barely paid any attention to him at all."

"That's for the best. I can't stretch my tolerance for this situation any thinner without snapping."

"Kaiba, I'm frightened that you aren't taking very seriously the care of that young boy—whatever identity he holds in your mind. He's a living person. I wish you would treat him like one."

"I wonder about that," Seto said in a low voice, after a moment had passed.

"I _do_ wish it," he insisted.

"No. I wonder whether he's a living person or not."

Seto remembered meeting Noa Kaiba. He was already dead when they met, and Seto believed that somehow the fact should still feel odd. Unnatural. But he'd spent enough time getting used to the idea that it didn't feel strange anymore. It was just one more slight oddity about his life.

But Seto's own technology had been used against him then, not for the first time. Why not now as well? As he sipped his drink in the air conditioning, he wondered why it seemed like his deceased step-brother continued to pop into his mind lately.

"I believe I know what you mean by that, and I encourage you to tread that path carefully, my friend."

"Friend," Seto scoffed. "You keep using that word. Then you turn on me again. And the whole time, you expect me to respect you all the same."

Atem appeared taken aback by the stab. "I'm looking out for your best interests, Kaiba," he said defensively.

"Of course you are," he said bitterly. He'd heard that before.

"If you open your mind now you may be able to avoid all of that."

" _Open my mind_?" Seto scoffed. "The last time you said _those_ words to me, I wound up in a coma for six months, and my life was never the same." He set down his glass and stared evenly at the other man. "I simply don't know how to trust you."

And at the same time, Seto trusted him better than anyone. He couldn't even trust Mokuba anymore.

"I am sorry to hear you feel that way. I had hoped you knew I would never do anything to harm you. But you? Well, you very well may be working to burn a bridge between yourself and Mokuba that will cause so much damage it cannot be rebuilt. When you realize what it is that you have done, you'll only have yourself to blame. I don't want that for you."

"You're suggesting that you're trying to protect me from myself. Is that right? Am I my own enemy?"

Seto's eyes bore into his opponent's, and Atem stared back. He was reminded of Mana's brave expression as she was dragged to the dungeons. For a moment, Seto wondered how much Atem could read into his words. Part of him wanted to reveal the truth and be done with it. But another part wanted to drag Atem's truth out of him, using whatever means were necessary.

"You have a tendency to punish yourself by your own actions," Atem stated simply.

Seto leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

"I told you to drop it," he said.

"As you wish. But if I see this behavior getting out of hand, I will not be able to stand idly by and watch you harm him."

"It's none of your business," he said, glaring at the man. He crossed his arms, as if closing the conversation.

"Fine. I see you refuse to relent, as usual. Consider the issue set aside. Is there another reason you invited me in, other than ensure I stop commenting on the discussion which _you_ began?"

As the question hung, Seto pondered his latest dream.

He had never had another dream following the last. But when Atem made his presence known one week after Set had nearly set Mana free only to have Atem disappear from his clutches, Seto wondered why the sequences cut off in such a place.

He had given the prison guard a key, but did he ever release the girl? If so, did she ever answer his last question?

Why couldn't he remember anything after that?

"There's something I would appreciate if you would explain to me," Seto said.

"Hmm?" Atem hummed, while indulging in one of the buttery treats set before him.

"I want to know why—or rather, _how_ —you're here."

Atem laughed, though his expression showed he seemed to be a mixture of amused and astounded.

"And why should that matter to the man who spent so many years denying my existence? Since when are you one to wonder the specifics of magic?"

"I'm not. But you showed up when…" Seto paused, not wanting to reveal that he had known Atem was coming, "when nobody thought they'd see you again. You can't blame me for having a sense of curiosity."

"I suppose not." He set down his drink. "When I returned to my resting place, in Egypt, I can't say that I got much rest. It was more like... I was given a new chance to live the life I used to have." He laughed again. "I guess death is so commonly called the afterlife for a reason."

Seto hid a smirk behind his glass of tea. This was the confirmation he'd been looking for, to prove that watching Set's actions had been more than dreams. He decided not to share his knowledge yet.

"After some time of living a comfortable life, though, I approached a woman who helped me… wake up."

"Wake up?" he asked.

Though he was more curious about the identity of the woman, Seto didn't feel like he could ask the question yet, without revealing too much.

"You didn't have a body to wake," he continued. "You were leeching off of Yugi's. Don't try to tell me that what you're using now is the same body you were _born_ in. That can't be possible."

Atem laughed. "I don't know all the details, but I'm certain I would have had a little trouble getting out of my sarcophagus in Egypt, so I don't believe that it is. I didn't wake up in my kingdom, anyway."

"Where did you, then?"

"I woke up in Domino, of course. I was inside the museum."

Seto furrowed his brows. Once again, Atem laughed.

"I know, it sounds odd. Imagine how I felt. I wasn't certain where I was until I explored the building. The late hour had me locked into the establishment. Once I began to recognize my surroundings, I kept quiet until I could sneak out in the morning. I didn't want to set off any alarms."

"Of course. You wouldn't want to get yourself arrested for breaking and entering on your first day back."

"She knew where I needed to be when I came back. It was odd... I even had my deck in my pocket."

"Mm. That reminds me. There is something else I've been pondering since our match."

"Go on?"

"You defeated Yugi, taking away the title the gaming world has crowned him with. If you were able to do that now, did you go easy on him during your last match with him?" While the question wasn't relevant to Mokuba or even Seto's dreams, he still felt he needed to know.

"Neither I, nor Yugi, would ever dishonor another duelist by holding back. Especially with each other." He bit into another biscuit. "Our duel was a test for both of us. Yugi beat me entirely of his own skill. He needed to win for himself, just as I needed to lose. But since my return we have come to the conclusion that our skills are evenly matched."

"I see," Seto said, wondering how much he accepted Atem's answer. "That leaves me with only one last question. _Why_ did you come back?"

Atem finished his biscuit and leaned forward. In one moment, something about his demeanor changed drastically enough that Seto couldn't deny he noticed it.

"That girl. You know her name, don't you?"

"She calls herself Kisara. But you're changing the subject."

"Not entirely. What do you know about her?"

"I remember seeing her from the time I spent helping you and Yugi in Egypt. Before your match with him. She was a peasant the High Priest hid away in the dungeons."

"Was there anything else?"

"He knew her from somewhere else. He already knew about her strength."

"And what does that mean to you?"

"I don't know what you're trying to insinuate."

"You keep referring to the Priest as though he were another person, separate from you. But he led a life very similar to your own."

"Similar, but not identical. That alone doesn't mean anything to me."

"Do you need to be so technical? There are lines in your life that connect you to his. You have lived through similar experiences. I hope you'll think about what that means."

Atem stood from the sofa and carried his empty glass to the kitchen and set it beside the sink.

"My apologies, Kaiba. But it is a little too cold for me inside. I'd like to get back into the sun."

Atem flashed a smile and opened the patio door.

"Wait," Seto called before Atem could leave him to ponder what he meant.

Atem paused, half inside the house.

"Listen," Seto said. "You've always struck me as somewhat of a philosophical type. So, I wonder, what would you say if somebody waltzed up to you and told you that they've managed to simultaneously live out two completely different lives?"

"That's an odd sort of question coming from you."

"Well?"

"What is the point of this, Kaiba? I'm not certain I understand."

Seto watched Atem standing in the threshold of his patio and considered how to begin, or if this was even the time.

"What, then, would you say if I told you I know what you've been up to?"

Atem's eyes narrowed at his old rival and he spoke slowly and cautiously. "What do you mean, Kaiba?"

A smirk graced Seto's lips as he realized he was gaining ground with the other. "I mean, during your absence."

"I don't know what you're referring to," Atem said matter-of-factly, acting much more closed off than usual. "There's nothing for you to know."

"Well, aren't we getting defensive?" Seto was smug. Atem getting defensive meant he had something to hide, and Seto was determined to shed light on it "What for? Perhaps I'm just bluffing. For all you know, I'm just trying to mess with your head."

"For the thrill of it?"

Seto held out his hands in mock innocence. "I can't deny that I enjoy toying with you," he said, though he felt more like a shark playing with its dinner.

Atem scoffed. "Aren't you usually too busy for such games?"

Now it was Seto's turn to speak slowly, danger lacing his words. He stood and sauntered toward the shorter duelist.

"Let's try this again. Tell me, what would you do if you knew that someone was already aware of everything that transpired in your world during your time away from here?"

"How? How could you know? You couldn't know," he muttered. "You weren't there."

"Your defensiveness leads me to question why you would care. What do you have to hide?"

"It doesn't matter," he said, taking a step back. "There is no way in which you could have that kind of knowledge."

"I knew you were coming back." Seto countered. "Nearly a week before you called me for our duel."

"You have eyes all over the city, and I didn't try very hard to stay hidden."

Seto paused, trying to decide how much of his knowledge he should reveal. He didn't want to rid himself of his advantage so early in the game, after all. And now he was having fun playing with the Egyptian, watching him squirm under pressure. He decided he could roll out another pawn, and watch how mercilessly the smaller would lay waste to it before he had to send out his tougher pieces.

"You gave your puzzle to your high priest. You let him take over as pharaoh."

As expected, Atem still didn't budge. "You were there when that happened. So was Yugi, and Jounouchi, and the others as well."

"And then you went on to become his adviser." Among other things, he thought to himself. His friend or challenger, perhaps, but also a traitor and a conspirator.

Atem froze, his gaze locked onto Seto's face.

Seto knew that detail had happened after Atem's duel with Yugi, when he finally left the modern world.

"What game are you playing?" he asked, eying Seto.

"I'll let you figure that out yourself." Seto smirked. "I have questions of my own."

"Those questions will have to wait until later, Kaiba. I need to clear my head."

Atem slipped through the door before Seto could stop him again.


	24. Piranhas

A/N: This story has not at all been discontinued, but I have another priority. I cannot apologize for the delay enough, and I thank all of my readers for your patience. I have decided on a loose deadline for the bulk of another story, and taking time to dive back into this would seriously derail that (even though this story was posted first). But this chapter is ready to go, so why not give you guys an update?

You can expect the next one sometime in September, but chapters will continue to be sparse until I'm done with Silver Threads. But thank you all so much for your encouragement and feedback! (Hint, hint: Yes, nudging this story DOES get me to update sooner when possible, thank you.)

Enjoy!

~omgagr

* * *

Seto retreated to his office and sat back in his leather chair. He tried his best to close his eyes and relax. The windows behind him were coated with a slight tint that prevented him from being seen from the outside, but also managed to dim the bright sunset from coming through. The room held a pleasant quietude, but that didn't seem to be enough to help calm him.

After laying back for nearly twenty minutes feeling his heartbeat fluctuate and pulse flutter, he sat up again, feeling nothing but unrest.

His finger itched to open his laptop again, to check the security cameras of his main house. But he let the desire pass, suspecting that the media swarm wouldn't have let up much since he'd last checked. Wishing he had more work to keep him busy that he could accomplish remotely, he ignored his desktop and rotated his chair to face the window.

Though the sun was beginning to set, the beach was still filled with people. The sand in front of Seto's bit of property was much less populated, but Yugi and his friends still laid on the beach or played in the water. Seto counted the heads, mostly for something to do.

Over the years Seto grew to recognize Yugi's crew, to the point where he could pick them out in a crowd, even from behind. Of course Yugi and Atem were the easiest to pick out. He spotted Jounouchi's blond hair next, and Seto assumed that the most generic of them all—Honda, with his nondescript short brown hair—was the man darting around the water playing some game with Jounouchi like children.

Anzu's bright yellow bikini made her stand out in particular. He couldn't ignore the tall, thin woman who lay beside her, though he certainly tried to. Leon's red ponytail draped across his back as he sat on the beach by himself facing the water, digging in the sand with a stick.

But as Seto came up one person short he watched the water, waiting for one last head to bob up from beneath the surface.

"Where is he?" Seto wondered aloud.

When no one else on the beach seemed alarmed, Seto abandoned the thought that the boy had drowned. He scanned the rest of the beach idly, searching for the head of familiar dark hair, his eyes periodically flicking back to where Yugi and his friends played.

As if Leon were wondering the same thing as Seto, he wandered up to Anzu, basking under her parasol. Her long, tan arm poked out from beneath it, and Seto followed the pointed finger to two young adults he didn't recognize, further down the beach.

A man and a woman stood beside one another with their backs toward Seto's window. They wore casual dress appropriate for the weather, but not beach clothes. Seto watched them curiously for a moment.

They appeared to be watching the water together, but as Seto watched the couple he wondered. The man held his arm up to his face, presumably to block the sun, and he turned often to the woman, moving his other arm as if to accentuate a point in conversation. The woman would occasionally do the same, but then they would both turn back to the water for long stretches.

After a few minutes, the woman swayed to the side and gave Seto a glimpse of a third, much shorter person, facing them directly.

"Kaiba?" Leon's voice sounded at the door to Seto's room, startling him out of his study.

"Yes?" he asked, though he did not take his eyes off the couple and their companion.

"You might want to come out to the beach. I think Mokuba's talking to some people you wouldn't want him to."

The man on the beach shifted just as a breeze must have rolled through, and Seto caught a glimpse of long, scraggly dark hair gently waving.

Seto risked a glance over his shoulder and saw that Leon was watching the same couple over Seto's shoulder.

"I'm on my way," he said, standing from his office chair.

As Seto stepped out the back door and made his way over the sand, the fact became clear to Seto that he didn't recognize the pair of adults, which failed to relieve his sense of unease.

"May I help you?" Seto demanded of the couple from behind, using a tone that made him sound every bit as unhelpful as he felt.

The couple didn't answer him, but went on talking with Mokuba as if Seto wasn't there, without so much as a pause or a glance behind themselves.

"Hey, bro," Mokuba said casually, but he wore a smirk that did even more to unnerve Seto.

Finally the man peered over his shoulder Seto's direction and tapped the woman's arm, but Seto could not read either of their expressions.

"So, anyway, what's it like getting to live so close to the beach?" the woman asked.

Mokuba shrugged and opened his mouth to answer.

" _Excuse me_ ," Seto injected with a huff, stepping between Mokuba and the couple, his back to Mokuba. "What business do you have to discuss with this child?"

The woman stared at Seto as though he'd just kicked a scrap of meat away from a starving dog.

"I'm not a child," Mokuba argued.

"Be quiet," Seto responded without looking at him. "I want an explanation, or you can leave."

"Excuse yourself!" the woman cried. "We were having a pleasant conversation on public grounds before you butted in. We were discussing—"

"This boy is my charge," Seto interrupted, "and if you don't work for me then as far as I'm concerned, you—as two unrelated adults—have no business speaking to him."

"Seto, leave them alone. We were just talking," Mokuba insisted.

"It's time to go inside," Seto said, turning to leave.

Leon stood off to the side of his friend, a worried look on his face.

Mokuba didn't move.

"I _said_ ," Seto insisted, easing a hand onto Mokuba's shoulder and pulling him, "we're going inside."

"Seto, that hurts!" Mokuba twisted away from Seto's grip and stumbled backward, falling into the sand.

Seto stood over him with a glare. "Get up and stop fussing. I barely touched you."

The woman gave Mokuba a look of concern, and reached out to him.

Mokuba didn't stop her, and winced when she touched the place on his shoulder Seto had grabbed.

"Mokuba, please," Leon whispered. "You're making a scene. Your brother's just trying to keep you safe."

"Shut up," Mokuba muttered as he climbed to his feet, the woman at his back. "You only think that because your brother doesn't give a damn about you."

"Mokuba…" Leon flinched, but didn't add anything more.

"You can leave now," Seto said to the adults, "or I'll be forced to involve the authorities."

"Hey!" the man called, pushing Seto chest. "Where do you get off thinking you can threaten my wife like that?"

Seto fought against all his instincts not to shove the man to the ground for touching him.

"It doesn't matter, _honey_ ," the woman exaggerated. "We got what we came for."

She pulled a small tan device from beneath the strap of her tank top.

"A recording device," Seto said, seething. "What station do you work for?"

The woman grinned and shook her head, but the man's gaze darted over his shoulder, across the beach and toward the street. A white van was parked down the road, and Seto could just barely make out the logo of one of the major radio stations.

" _Mokuba_ ," Seto growled, still not looking his way. "I am not going to tell you again. Go inside. _Now_."

"Tch," the man shook his head. "The great Seto Kaiba can't even get a _kid_ to respect him without resorting to violence? You're not the man the world thought you were, are you?"

A dark chuckle escaped Seto's lips as the absurdity of his situation struck him like a blow to the head.

"You don't know the half of what's happening here. You have no right to make assumptions. Go ahead and try to smear my name, if that's what gets you your damn ratings. What can I do? You've got me on tape."

Seto reached out and grabbed the neck of the man's polo shirt and pulled him close to his face.

"You got what you came for. Now get the _fuck_ away from me before I personally make you wish you'd never come."

He wanted to toss the man backwards, to make him fall hard into the wet sand. But he forced his fists to uncurl slowly, releasing the man's shirt and backing a step away. The man looked shaken, his face white, but didn't seem to have anything to say.

Seto turned his back on the undercover reporters and reached— _gently—_ for Mokuba's hand. Although he wasn't nearly young enough of a child to need to be treated so gingerly, Seto insisted on tugging Mokuba along by the hand like a toddler.

Leon followed dutifully behind, keeping silent and watching over his shoulder as the couple disappeared off the beach.

"What was that all about?" Jounouchi cried as the group approached. "Mokuba, you okay? Didn't open any stitches or nothin', did you?"

"If he was worried about that," Honda said, "he wouldn't have been swimming all day. Right, Mokuba?"

Seto urged the child inside the patio door, where Mokuba jerked his hand away and stomped off to his room.

"None of you should feel obligated to stay any longer if you wish to leave," Seto said, staring after Mokuba.

"I'm not going anywhere," Leon said, standing beside Seto. "You asked me to accomplish something, and I don't think I'm done yet."

Seto glanced down at the boy. He was so close to Mokuba in age, but felt more like his own comrade then that it surprised Seto.

"I… appreciate that," he said.

Leon nodded. "Should I go talk to him?"

"Yes," he said, wary of giving Mokuba time to come up with a story to explain his side of events.

Leon painted a determined look across his face and slipped past Seto through the patio door. He disappeared down the hallway.

"The rest of you can do what you please."

There was a shifting silence among the group.

"Mokuba seems pretty tense," Jounouchi said. "I don't wanna get in the way of, like, a family thing."

"Nobody's making you stay," Seto said. Rather than stay and wait for a decision, Seto slipped into the house, closing the patio door halfway.

"I don't know if I feel right to just go home and let Mokuba deal with it alone," Yugi said.

"He's not alone," Anzu comforted, a hand on Yugi's shoulder. "He's got his brother. And Leon's here, for as long as he plans to stay. Those two seem pretty close."

"Whatever you decide to do," Seto said through the cracked door, sitting at his kitchen counter, "don't speak to any more reporters. There's going to be a swarm of them now."

Jounouchi rubbed at the back of his head. "I guess we should probably go."

"That seems like it's probably for the best," Honda agreed.

"Let's at least say goodbye to him," Anzu suggested.

The crowd shuffled into the house.

"Can we—?" Anzu started, but Seto was already starting down the hall with a bottle of water in his hand.

"He's on the left," Seto said, gesturing down the hall as he opened the door to his own room and slipped inside.

Yugi, Jounouchi, Anzu, Honda and Kisara went on, but Atem followed after Seto.


	25. Shock

"Kaiba!" Atem scolded from the doorway of his bedroom just before Seto could ease into his desk chair as he longed to. "That was _exactly_ the kind of action I was talking about!"

"Just stop," he barked, hands flat on the desk and eyes boring intently into the others'. "You're so concerned that I'm going to hurt this _kid_ that you can't see what's really happening. Did you see his face when those reporters revealed what they were? He was _smiling_. Do you realize what that means?"

"I did not see his face."

"Leon did. So don't claim that I'm imagining things to suit my own agenda. Ask him."

"I didn't say—" Atem stopped. "Fine, Kaiba. So he was smiling. What does that mean?"

"It means he was baiting me. And I fell into his trap. He _wanted_ me to blow up on camera, or at least on a recording. _My_ Mokuba, _my_ brother, never would have done that. We used to be a team. Now, because he overreacted to my touching his shoulder with witnesses, they've got a false story on me that's going to be on air any day, or even within the hour. And he's _pleased_ about that."

"I don't see how he could be."

"What else could that smug little smirk mean?"

"Perhaps you misinterpreted it. Perhaps the setting sun was in his eyes."

"He was standing in my shadow. For all of your concern on my endangering a youth, can you prove without a doubt that the personality inside his body is even a child?"

"I don't know! But will you just stop and listen to yourself for a moment? Do you realize how you sound?"

Seto did stop. He stared at Atem in silence. Then he leaned back and dropped into his chair.

"I sound like a fucking lunatic," he said quietly. "You think I don't realize that? How badly do you think I want to believe that none of this is happening? That my brother is fine and I'm just being paranoid and cruel?"

"But we've been over this already. You can't be convinced of that."

"Believe me. Please. There is not one thing on this planet I wouldn't give up— _not one—_ " he waved a finger dramatically, "if it meant that I could wake up from this nightmare and have my normal life back." Seto almost laughed at his own use of the word 'normal', but couldn't bring himself to. When had his life ever been normal? "If all I had to do was change my own behavior to make everything seem right again, that would be nothing."

Seto pushed his chair back, closed his eyes and rubbed them.

"I'm sorry, Kaiba. I realize you feel strongly about this. But I still can't condone your behavior earlier."

Seto scoffed. " _That_. You know, I wasn't rough with him."

"That was an act, too, then?"

"You don't believe me on that, either, I see."

"I can imagine it might be easy for someone of your stature to not realize the strength of your grip."

"I can promise, there are no marks on his skin. Part of why I wanted Leon to be with him right now is so that he's not left alone to make any on his shoulder himself. But whatever. If you're just going to believe what you want anyway, why are you even here?"

Atem leaned against the side of Seto's desk and crossed his ankles.

"Because you asked me to be here."

"And as far as the reason I asked you here, you've fulfilled your purpose."

"Are you telling me to leave?"

Seto rubbed his eyes harder, then rested the back of his hand over his forehead. Without opening his eyes, he pulled open a drawer with his other hand and rummaged through until he brushed a rattling bottle. He flipped the lid with two fingers and pulled out a few pills.

"What are those?" Atem asked.

Seto swallowed three and downed half his bottle of water, then put the container back in the drawer and rubbed at his temples.

"Pain reliever. I rarely take them, but I've got a headache that won't quit."

Seto let the room soak in silence a moment. He doubted the medicine would help much—a prime reason why he rarely used it.

"No. I'm not telling you to leave," Seto finally said.

"Then…?"

Seto opened his eyes, blinking at the lights over his head. He didn't remember turning them on, though he guessed that he must have done so idly. He wished they weren't so bright. He sat forward, his elbows on his desk, and met Atem's gaze.

"You're the reigning expert on magic, so far as I know. I'm asking you to help me figure this damn thing out."

A quiet, timid knock sounded at the door, which stood halfway open. Both men looked up.

"Leon," Seto said. "Have you spoken to him?"

"Kaiba… I don't know what to say."

"What do you mean?"

Leon closed the door behind him and stood in the middle of the room, looking lost.

"Leon. What did Mokuba say?"

The boy glanced at Atem.

"Don't worry about him. Here," Seto said, standing and pulling his chair around to the other side of the desk, which he leaned against. "Sit down and tell me everything."

"He's…" Leon fumbled around for words, but couldn't seem to finish his thoughts. "You're right. He's not the same."

Seto noticed that Leon's eyes were red and glassy.

"Did you hear what he said to me?" Leon whispered.

"I did. He always had a sharp tongue when talking to adversaries. But I've never heard anything like that come out of Mokuba's mouth when speaking to a friend."

"If you don't mind my asking," Atem interjected, "what did he say to you?"

Leon glanced at Atem again, then at Seto.

"He alluded that Leon was defending my actions all because his brother Siegfried doesn't care about him. He insinuated that Leon was only trying to intervene on my behalf out of jealousy of our family relationship as opposed to his own."

"Mokuba knows that my family's situation has always bothered me," Leon added. "It's why he and I connected so well. It's why we became such good friends. Because he understands how important family is, and was always sympathetic that mine was… broken. But he's never thrown it in my face like that before."

Seto allowed Leon his moment to collect himself before moving on.

"What else have you observed?" he asked.

Leon was quiet, his brows furrowed.

"There's really something off about him. I can see now why you had me come out. I'm happy to see him and everything…"

"Are you?" Seto asked, crossing his arms.

"…Yes. But I don't know what it is. He just seems too different. And it's only been a couple weeks since I last spoke with him."

"Can you cite any specific examples?"

He took a breath. "Aside from his attitude? He's messy. Messier than I remember. Did your cleaning staff always have to pick up after him?"

"On occasion. But he knows better than to leave his snacks out on the counter, half-eaten."

"And the refrigerator open?" Leon put his palm to his forehead and forced a chuckle. "I nearly lost it when I saw that."

"I could have had a few choice words for him myself over that."

"But… maybe with all that, he's just being lazy. You're on vacation, after all."

"This isn't a vacation, and I've made that clear to him several times. We're here until the city cools off and the reporters stop hounding the front door of our main house."

"But he's been through a lot, escaping a crash like that with his life. I mean, so many other passengers—people he'd been sitting right next to—lost theirs. Have you talked to him about it at all?"

Seto was silent. He hadn't wanted to talk to the imposter. As far as Seto was concerned, talking through the emotional aspects of survivor's guilt was akin to playing into the hands of whomever was possessing Mokuba's body. Doing so was an admission that nothing was wrong but the aftermath of the crash—that Mokuba was Mokuba, and that he was fine.

But Seto grappled with the reality in front of him, and he had no choice but to deny it. This was the only way Seto could allow himself to think anymore.

"I haven't," he replied.

"Well, I tried."

"How did that work?"

"It didn't. He… well, first he brushed off what happened outside. But he wasn't apologetic about what he said to me."

"That's not like him. He knows what he said would sting."

Leon glanced at the floor. "He just ignored it. Then I tried to ask him about the accident. He wouldn't tell me much. He didn't speak like he was afraid or traumatized, though."

Seto caught Atem's eye.

"No?"

"Not at all. He's really—I don't know the word, giddy?—about being a survivor."

"As if it's a personal achievement?" Seto asked.

"Exactly like that."

"So what does that mean?" Atem asked.

"It means he has brain damage," Leon muttered.

Seto was thoughtful. "That can't be ruled out as a reason for his behavior, but it doesn't explain every piece of the puzzle," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll explain that later. What else did he say?"

"He was very descriptive about the woman with the long hair. He seems to feel… very irritated with her. But he wouldn't say why. He just wouldn't stop talking about her, and using this awful tone, even though it didn't match his words."

"What did he say about her?" Atem asked.

"He told me all about her story. About how they met on the plane, and she ended up living, too. It made me think that there was something about that part of the plane, and the impact on the mountain. Why were the two people sitting next to each other the only survivors?"

"There might have been something regarding the plane or its impact, and I won't discount that. But Mokuba told me something much more astounding about the moments before the crash that has me thinking that more than mere physics were involved."

"And you believe him?"

"I don't want go so far as to say that I've seen evidence, but I'm not just taking his word for it. Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?"

Leon thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"Fine. How long do you plan on staying?"

"As long as you need me to."

"Then are you up for a little more undercover work?"

"I can try."

"Get him to relax. Forget about the messy details, and whatever happened outside. Just get him to relax, the way that Mokuba usually would, and see what he does. Play some games, watch a movie. Whatever he wants to do."

"Okay," Leon agreed. He returned Seto's chair, gave a slight bow and left the room.

"Do you believe me now, that something's not right about him?"

"I believe your persuasive personality could be spreading your paranoia."

"But my personality's not so persuasive that it works on you."

"Apparently. So, you plan to distract Mokuba from what's going on, so he'll reveal something to you?"

Seto shrugged. "What else can I do for now but watch him and wait?"

"How long will you be here, now that the media has found you?"

"Not as long as I first thought. Even if my home is still surrounded, there's no more point in staying here if they can get to us just as easily. In fact, we'll probably leave in the morning, though I'm not looking forward to the venture."

"Just try not to do anything else so outwardly… _unadvised_ in the vicinity of the media, if you're trying so hard to save your reputation."

"You don't have to tell me."


	26. As History Crumbles, So Does the Future

The mumbling chatter from Mokuba's friends was choked off as a door in the hallway closed.

"I didn't realized saying goodbye would take so long," Seto commented.

While he was happy the noise had quieted—Mokuba must have allowed them in his room—Seto longed for peace. Genuine peace however, he realized, he might never feel again.

"How much do you really know about me?" Atem asked Seto, as he seemed to realize he and his friends weren't leaving any time soon.

Seto returned his chair behind his desk, settled in and crossed his arms. "Is this about what I said to you earlier? About your life?"

"Of course. You made an attempt to reveal your hidden cards. Don't think I would simply forget that."

"I would never. But you can't expect me to reveal everything I have without some give-and-take."

"And what do you expect back from me?"

"Information. Some bit of knowledge that I have wanted for some time."

"And what would that be?"

"I don't expect you to give it up so easily. You never have before."

"Give me a reason to, Kaiba, and I just might surprise you."

Seto steeled his expression. If this game was all he had to distract him, he wasn't eager to end it. But he was tired. Part of him just wanted all the charades to end. Seto's jaw tightened, then fell slack as he let out a sigh.

"I saw you coming."

"You… saw me?"

"I dreamed it."

Atem's intent stare appeared question enough for Seto to plunge into an explanation.

He began at the end of Atem's time with Yugi, and shared the rough details of many of his subsequent dreams.

Atem appeared interested in the beginning but as Seto's story wore on his brows furrowed and his frown deepened.

Seto paused in the thick of his story to chuckle and smirk.

"What?" Atem asked. "I don't see what about this is funny."

"It's not. But your expression is all the confirmation I needed as the truth of what I'm saying dawns on you."

"The confirmation?"

"You aren't surprised by anything I'm saying, are you?"

"Of course I am, Kaiba. How do you know any of this?"

"You might be surprised _that_ I'm saying it, but none of it is news to you, is it? You know how this whole story unfolds."

Atem held a stoic expression and refused to answer.

"Go on. What happened next?"

Seto lost his smirk as he dove back into the thread of his tale, as unnecessary as it may have been to tell.

"And I—rather, _he—_ gave the guard the key," Seto concluded.

"So that's what happened to Mana. I suppose I should be glad it wasn't something worse."

" _That's_ your takeaway?"

"Kaiba, you know I worry after my friends. But… I am glad to know she was alright."

"I don't."

"You don't what?"

"I don't know that she was ever released. I know that I gave the permission, but I didn't see it carried out. That was partly your doing."

Atem's relieved expression melted into seething.

"Kaiba, don't you _dare_ blame me for what _you_ did to my dear friend! I had known Mana for my entire life as prince. Do you think it was _easy_ for me to abandon her? It went against the very fiber of my being!"

Atem's rant ended with a snarl. His hands were tight fists at his sides and he glared at Seto's polished floorboards.

"But… it couldn't be helped. I had to go."

"To come here, you mean."

"Of course. I have work to do."

"I can see that. Some effort you're making, hanging out at the beach all day. Whatever happened to your friend, I hope it was worth your vacation."

Atem turned his glare up to Seto, fire in his eyes.

"Do you think this is a joke?"

Seto straightened. "No more than I'm laughing about my brother. But where does this put you? Now you're here, still dealing with me, with nothing to show for your efforts but a broken connection with a friend you won't see again."

"That is not true."

"Oh, you intend to return to what you call home? How do you plan to do that?"

"I'll work on that when I need to. For now, I have other pressing matters."

"Like how you plan to coerce me into doing whatever it is that you think I should? Only, now I no longer have a nation at my back to defend my actions."

"You might as well. You own this city. You control enough of this land." Atem chuckled, but it was a dark sound. "How much do you remember after that?" he asked.

"Nothing. I was awake the next moment, although it was still early in the night. I couldn't get back to sleep."

"And you never had another dream after that?"

"Not of this sort. The only way I can piece this together rationally is to call it some kind of parallel dimensions theory." Seto said.

"I may not be a scientist like yourself. But I can tell you that I am the same person who lived in the era you dreamed about. What happened to the character you controlled during that time, you might be more equipped to understand than I."

"I never said I controlled him. I stated the opposite, in fact."

"Your tale made it sound like you believe you really were the one acting in your 'dreams'."

"I might as well have been. I wouldn't have acted any differently."

"But you still believe that your connection to Set is a coincidence? I don't buy it."

"We may have a connection, but it doesn't mean we're the same person," Seto insisted.

Atem seemed to ignore the comment.

"Regardless. If I may offer an opinion, I believe that the magic of Kisara's pendant allowed you to project yourself into another time. You didn't need to control Set's actions, because you _are_ Set, and you've already done all of the things he had done in your past life."

"But how could that be? As far as I know, I was nowhere near the woman when the dreams began."

"Perhaps that is the case. However, perhaps physical space was not a required factor. That is one area in which I require more information."

Seto fought the urge to roll his eyes. Perhaps, he reasoned, there was a quality in the woman's necklace, some physical property, that allowed him to tune into some force he did not wish to understand.

"What I am far more interested in knowing is," Seto said, "if all of this has happened once already, why couldn't you have given some sort of warning before you dueled Yugi and disappeared?"

Atem's expression sobered. He leaned in, lowering his tone.

"Are you trying to hold me responsible for what's happened to your brother? Kaiba, even if I had known his aircraft would crash, putting the blame on me can't do you any good."

Seto narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not. But if I'd known, I could have stopped him from getting on the plane."

"Blaming yourself won't do you any good, either. Besides, I couldn't have given you a warning. I hadn't lived the past year of my life yet. I froze my memories following my initiation as Pharaoh. Everything that happened after that, for me, was put on pause until after the years I spent here, and met you."

Seto pressed against his forehead with his fingertips. He was too distracted by his storm of emotions to follow much of what Atem had said.

Grief lived in his stomach like a brick, a constant reminder that despite all his wealth, he had no power to turn the clock back and protect his brother. Guilt nestled on his shoulder and gnawed at the lobe of his ear whenever he stopped paying it enough attention. And frustration itched in his fingertips, urging him to throw something, to strangle somebody, to slam back the trigger of a gun. Aimed at whom, he didn't much care. He itched to rip the demons off of and out of himself so he could rest.

"I know it doesn't sound like it makes much sense. But there's nothing I could have done. I did not come back to cause harm to your brother. Nor did I leave in order to allow it to happen."

Seto didn't answer.

"Kaiba? I think we've discussed all the information I can give you. I believe it's time I should go."

Atem rose and took a step toward the door, but Seto slammed his fists onto the desktop, the hollow echo rumbling through the room.

"No, we have _not_!" he shouted, rising to his feet. His chair swiveled out of place behind him, swinging to a stop with a tiny squeak in the suddenly silent air.

Icy anger glazed his eyes, freezing Atem in place.

" _Why_ can you not give me the _one_ piece of information I have been trying to wrench from you? What are you planning, and how am I involved? Why is it so hard for you to tell me that?" he demanded, his hands flat on the desktop, fingertips white from the pressure of his own weight bearing down.

The room remained silent save for the sound of Seto's breathing as the men stared at one another. Neither spoke, nor moved, even to blink.

Seto fought to control his breath as his hands began to tremble from fury. He remained still—not out of patience, but to keep himself from grabbing the one person who held any answers and silencing him. He didn't trust his own hands.

"Kaiba," Atem breathed so quietly, breaking the silence. "I have told you every bit of my part that I can."

A cacophony of footsteps emerged into the hallway, although the voices were much quieter than they had been earlier. Atem glanced at the closed door, but said nothing more.

"And what part is that?" he shouted, sweeping a wide gesture with his arms. "Playing matchmaker to fulfill some absurd greater plan you've cooked up? As far as I'm concerned, your involvement with that woman, and her involvement with me, is all part of the problem. I was far better off before she came into my life."

"I am not playing matchmaker. Kisara and you had met once, but your lives together—however you would have lived them out—were cut short by somebody else's plot. You could have been happy once, and part of your soul is still searching for the version of your life where that happens. You don't have to fall in love with her. But the lack of resolution between your soul and hers is draining you."

"So what if it is?" he demanded, not caring that he was playing along with the scheme he thought absurd.

"The magic of the seven items is responding to the King's condition. Without their safety, the events of the past cannot have happened the way they transpired a few years ago, when Yugi first put together the puzzle, and your lives together began."

"Our lives together? Don't talk like I'm involved with _him_ now."

"Kaiba, what happened before this time must be protected, or nothing we have ever fought for will make any difference."

"And why is that?"

"Surely, I don't have to explain this to you. When the past is tampered with, the future built upon it crumbles. If nothing was done to fix it, the world you live in would vanish, without anyone knowing the difference. I beg of you, do not jeopardize my efforts. _Our_ efforts, and all of the battles we have fought throughout our lives."

Seto said nothing as the man moved to the office door to let himself out. But as his eyes followed Atem, Seto saw the young woman peering through the doorway, a silver braid hanging over her shoulder. She leaned into the doorway, hair dripping water onto herself and down her bare leg.

Her silver eyes stared at Seto forlornly, even as Atem passed through the doorway and disappeared down the hall where the rest of his friends had already gone.

"What do you want?" Seto spat.

"'I was far better off before she came into my life.'" Kisara painted on a sad smile as she echoed Seto's words.

"Eavesdropping, on top of everything else?"

Kisara pursed her lips, as if collecting herself, but Seto had a difficult time imagining the woman as capable of getting upset.

"May I ask, Seto Kaiba, what grave deed I have sinned against you, to make you so angry with me?"

Seto continued to stare. He didn't know how to answer the question he felt was so obvious, so he remained silent.

Kisara released a deep sigh, her smile vanishing.

"I was hoping you would remember me on your own, Seto."

She slipped from the doorway before Seto could ask what she meant. He moved to follow her without thinking, but her soft footsteps carried her faster than he expected. When he made it down the hall and crossed the living room she was already gone. As he peered onto the beach, she had caught up with the rest of her friends, who were packing up their towels.

Seto held no desire to continue the bizarre conversation with an audience, so he shut the door and returned to his living room sofa. He propped his elbows on his knees and, head drooping, he folded his hands behind his neck.

He had only a moment of silence before the door slid open again.

"Kaiba," came Yugi's voice. "We wanted to thank you for inviting us. We're getting ready to leave, but we've enjoyed ourselves. I hope Mokuba begins to feel better soon."

Seto lifted his head and peered through the glass door, past Yugi. The sky had taken on colorful hues that had faded again as the last bit of sun began to vanish. He nodded in response, but said nothing. Yugi left the door open, and Mokuba walked back in, Leon on his heels.

"We went for one last quick dip before dark," Leon explained.

Mokuba trailed sand across the floor. The towel draped around his shoulders did nothing about his dripping shorts.

Seto rolled his eyes. He turned away, but caught Leon staring openly at Mokuba, his eyes darting from the boy's face, to the sand and water on the wood floor.

"What are we having for dinner?" Mokuba asked.

Leon glanced up at Seto, giving him a peculiar look.

"I'll order something," he said, not intending to have so much as a bite. "You can open the door when it arrives. I'll make sure it's paid for," he said, so there would be no more excusable cause for the boy to bother him again for the night.

Mokuba made a look like he might complain about the choice. Seto was ready to retract the offer and let the kid starve for the night, but eventually Mokuba shrugged.

"We're going home in the morning," Seto said, and retreated to his bedroom before Mokuba could say another word.


	27. But For A Moment

Seto ordered a pizza as promised, making sure it was paid for before leaving the website. He checked the manor's security camera footage one more time, seeing little change, and closed the lid to his laptop.

He laid in bed with his clothes on, draping an arm over his eyes. He tried again to relax, but after a few minutes he reached one long arm up to the wall and hit the dimmer switch on the lights. With the glaring white light muted and the soft silver moonlight glowing outside, something gave way inside of Seto and his heartbeat finally slowed.

He felt his body give way to exhaustion, but thoughts still tumbled around in his mind.

What had Atem meant with his explanation? He had finally begun to give Seto some answers, but they only left him more confused. How could Atem's newest crusade _not_ have anything to do with the unusual events in Seto's life? They _always_ did, in some way or another.

And that was just it. Atem believed he was on another one of his campaigns to save the planet from 'certain doom'. But what did that even mean this time? Who was the enemy? Atem seemed to believe that the enemy was simply time.

Or Seto himself, he pondered. Was he really his own worst enemy?

But with nobody tangible to fight, Seto doubted Atem's role in the man's own plans. He couldn't manage to put a finger on Atem's intentions, and that only added to his frustration. He had answered Seto's questions with more questions.

 _I was hoping you would remember me on your own, Seto._

Seto sat up with a start and flicked the lights back on. What had the woman meant by that? Certainly Atem believed that Mokuba's flying companion was the same woman that _Set_ had known once in his own childhood—and then again as High Priest. But he was used to Atem proclaiming absurdity.

What did Kisara believe? What did she think they meant to each other?

Why did her presence feel so…

Seto couldn't put a finger on it, try as he might. Eventually he had to dim the lights again while he pondered the strange woman and her even stranger words, until eventually sleep wrapped its arms around him.

* * *

The sunshine on the water sparkled like fractured glass. Seto tried to envision the beams of light from the sun as the particles of water separated the colors, forming the tiny rainbows over the lake.

 _Lake?_ Seto wondered. But wasn't he on a beach… at the ocean?

A warmth in his hand relaxed him, and his thought slipped away. He squeezed the hand, and the warmth spread inward. A darkness in the back of his mind that he couldn't quite name shied away. He thought more about the book he had read over breakfast that morning, about particles of light. Maybe Mokuba would like to read it.

Maybe he wasn't ready yet. A few more years, perhaps, and he could read it to him instead of storybooks.

Seto smiled and looked down at his warm hand, glad to have the comforting presence at his side. But it wasn't Mokuba holding his hand.

Something tugged at the back of Seto's shirt, and he turned around without dropping the warm hand.

 _Mokuba_ , he thought, _there you are._ But he seemed to realize he hadn't said it out loud, so he opened his mouth and tried again.

"Mokie," it came out.

His voice felt strange, and sounded even stranger. It sounded small. But it didn't matter, because Mokuba smiled, and if he was smiling like that, it always meant that he was okay. And if Mokuba was okay, then Seto could be okay.

The darkness in his mind shrunk back even more.

He took Mokuba's hand in his free hand, feeling even smaller than the other.

Seto glanced to his side, to the first warm hand. He followed the hand to its arm, then to its shoulder.

 _But then… who is this?_

He followed the shoulder up to the face, covered by the long, silver hair, that sparkled just like the broken glass lake.

 _Oh. That's right. It's her._

 _Of course. Who else would it be?_

And the darkness disappeared.

* * *

Seto drifted awake slowly, with the feeling of swimming through mud. When he finally opened his eyes there was no light, and he could hardly tell if he was really awake. He could remember dreaming—the scene felt more like a memory than a dream. He felt comfortable as he waded through the last of the mud in his groggy state.

But as he slogged through closer to alertness, his sense of comfort slipped further away and a heavy darkness took its place. He believed he could feel a void rip open in the space beside him, within the space that separated him from where his brother lay in his bed just down the hall.

Seto sat up slowly, remembering with a grieved start that his comfortable place could only ever exist within dreams anymore.

* * *

The limousine rolled slowly through the ornate gates of Kaiba Manor. Security guards held back the mob of reporters from entering the property without permission, and the chauffeur seemed to be struggling not to hit anyone with the vehicle as it crawled forward.

Seto sat in the back seat between Mokuba and the window, Isono on the other side of the boy, to shield him from cameras. Seto had envisioned returning to his home with Mokuba after his recovery, but that had been a brief daydream he had pushed away, before he had ever held his brother's cold, rubbery corpse.

He shivered at the memory on the mountain, then did his best to hide it with a shift in posture.

The car rolled into the underground garage and stopped, allowing the three passengers to get out unhindered by unwelcome visitors.

"Why don't you want to talk to them?" Mokuba asked, being the first to break the long silence that had shrouded the brothers since they had departed from the beach house.

"Because," Isono answered for Seto, "reporters who hound in such a way already have a story they want to tell. They'll use anything they can to support it, whether it's true or not."

Mokuba nodded, but turned to Seto directly. "So, what are you so afraid of them falsely reporting?"

Seto couldn't decide if he was imagining the dark tone in the boy's voice.

"The sudden disappearance of a certain little boy who asked too many questions," Seto answered flatly, without a glance in his direction.

"I am not a little boy, Seto," Mokuba responded.

Seto knew he couldn't have imagined the same dark tone twice. But he brushed it away the best he could and followed Isono inside while the man carried their bags.

Seto had plans to continue ignoring Mokuba while at home as much as possible, and locked himself inside his study. Isono was quick to join him.

"Sir?" he asked tentatively. "Do you intend for Mokuba to resume his schoolwork?"

Seto hadn't had time to think about it.

"Do you think he's well enough?" Isono elaborated.

"If he can spend a weekend swimming in the ocean, I think he's perfectly well enough to open a textbook and read it," Seto answered.

"Very well. Shall I get the head of your house staff call his tutors? They were given off the full two weeks of Mokuba's expected trip."

"Call them, but don't have them come in. He can do long-distance learning over video with them for a while. I don't need more visitors asking questions about the mob out front. And every time those gates open is another chance for someone to slip through and make it to the front door."

"I will not allow that to happen, sir."

"You're staying?"

"You just said that when the gates open…"

"I didn't mean that you have to be locked in here with us." Seto gave the man a scrutinizing glare. "You don't want to leave me alone with him, do you?"

Isono frowned. "To be perfectly honest, sir, I am not quite certain how to navigate the situation. But I figured that, unless you wish me to leave, I could stay and be of help to you, in whatever way you may need."

"You don't have to lie to me. You agree with Yugi and his group. You think I'm going to do something to him, don't you?"

"I can't answer that. I don't think I know what you're going to do any more than you do."

Seto smirked. "You've got me there. It seems there is no manual to situations like these."

"But I do expect you have a plan on how to move forward with the public?"

"That I do have. And I will need some assistance with it."

"I'm at your service, Mister Kaiba."

"Start contacting the news stations. Not just the ones outside, but any other station you can get ahold of."

"Will you be holding a press conference?"

"I will. And I think it will be best if I can get to HQ to deliver it. It'll be less personal that way. I'll be able to focus better."

"Just give me a time and date and I'll spread the word through all the media outlets."

"Do you have an update on the status of the headquarter building?"

"Kaiba Corp is also experiencing a crowd, but not like here. I suspect the reporters knew to hound you at home for the time being."

"Well, in a few days they can hound me where there's heavier security."

"When shall I schedule this conference for?"

"As soon as possible. This afternoon. And make sure Mokuba stays home. He should be busy with his studying. He doesn't need to watch."

"As you wish."

Isono slipped out of the office to make arrangements.

* * *

Seto stood in the front of Kaiba Corp at a makeshift podium, with security guards on either side and over a dozen microphones in his face.

"I realize this press conference has been requested for some time, but I assume you'll understand the fact that a member of my family had been aboard an aircraft that crashed, and that the incident has had an impact on my life."

The crowd fell silent, as if the reporters were digesting and judging his statement. Not willing to give them time to form an opinion, Seto went on.

"You've been hounding my facilities for answers to a few choice questions I intend to address immediately."

As if flipping a switch, the cameras shoved in and the reporters pushed forward to cram their microphones closer.

"Mister Kaiba, is it true that there has been a survivor?" one man asked.

"Mister Kaiba, is KaibaCorp's Vice President alive?"

 _You can't just let him die quietly, can you?_ he thought.

"What was the cause of the aircraft's crash?"

Seto held a hand up in a gesture that only worked to quiet the reporters because the mounting anger in his expression burned a threat into the crowd.

"There have been two survivors. The Vice President of the Kaiba Corporation is one of them." Seto refused to call him his brother on live television.

A burst of murmurs hummed through the crowd.

"What is the identity of the second survivor?"

"The family of the other survivor has been notified of her condition. She is a temporary employee assigned to assist in the duties of the Kaiba Corp team."

He hadn't meant to sound like he thought so little of her, but couldn't help but wish she had taken the place of any number of his more valuable employees who had been on the aircraft and lost their lives. He knew he would have trouble replacing their worth when the time came, but he tried to push that out of his mind while reporters shouted questions at him.

"Where were the two surviving passengers seated when the aircraft crashed?" asked a young man with a stern look in his eyes.

"I do not have enough information to answer that," Seto said. "Next question."

He wasn't about to tell the reporters that the only other survivor had been seated directly beside the President's sibling, lest they twist it to claim the craft had been equipped with extra safety precautions near his seat that the rest of his staff and crew were denied. It may have been a stretch, but Seto couldn't put anything past them, as they had already proven some reporters were plainly out for blood. _His_ blood.

"The investigation is still pending," Seto continued, still going through the questions he had already received while ignoring any new ones, "so I cannot comment on the exact reason for the crash. However, it is believed that one of the passengers was in possession of unauthorized weaponry and forced the hand of the pilot and staff."

More murmurs ran through the crowd of reporters.

He hadn't wanted to share this detail since it likely meant that there would be stabs at KC's security protocols now, but he knew he couldn't hide it for long.

"Who was the passenger?"

"I cannot release the passenger's name at this time, but he was not among the survivors. Next question."

"What state is your brother currently in? Will he be able to return to work?" A woman asked.

Seto peered at the woman curiously before answering. He suspected she may have had children of her own. No one else had bothered to wonder about his condition.

"That remains to be seen." It was the only truthful answer he could give.

"But, Mister Kaiba, other reports have concluded that the boy was doing quite well, even so much as to be swimming at a public beach."

"That is private information, as well as irrelevant. His demonstration of the abilities required to perform his job duties as secondary head of a corporation will be the determining factor of his return to work, not whether you've read about his condition in an unverified article."

"Mister Kaiba," one reporter pushed forward with a steel expression. "Is it true that you assaulted your dependent brother on a public beach in front of two reporters? Do you have any comments?"

Seto hadn't expected the question. He knew he could not back down from it without making himself look like a coward and a criminal. But he had no clear way to explain himself in such a way that might get him out of hot water, _and_ not play into the hands of the imposter who had set him up.

He may be able to accomplish one feat, but not both. With the direct sound clip the reporters had taken as evidence of the scuffle, his only resort was the latter.

Mokuba had wanted to set him up for this, but Seto couldn't figure out what that would accomplish, unless he was trying to get rid of Seto somehow. Certainly, if he were arrested on allegations of child abuse, it would give Mokuba the freedom to act without his involvement. Whatever that would accomplish, Seto didn't want to find out.

But perhaps he wanted to see Seto paint everything over as okay—to force him to admit publicly that Mokuba was who he claimed to be. Not that Seto had any intentions of going public with his twisted theory. No one would take him seriously again. But pretending in front of an audience so large would take effort and nerve he didn't think he had.

If Mokuba was watching this conference, Seto did not want to meet his eyes when he returned home.

"While this issue does not remotely pertain to the intended subject of this conference, I will answer purely to end the matter, since you have brought it up."

The reporters seemed to collectively lean in closer. Seto felt like he could hardly breathe with all the microphones in his face. The camera flashes and spotlights were making his vision white out, so he ignored the crowd in his mind.

"All I can tell you is that the incident reported on the beach was an exaggeration on my brother's part. While he was content to spend the day playing, he wanted to be treated gently when it was time to retire, playing it off that his injuries were sensitive."

"He's just been in the hospital after a major aircraft crash," the same reporter who'd asked the question claimed. "Shouldn't he be on bed rest, not getting hassled on a public beach?"

He had been in a crash, Seto acknowledged. He knew better than anyone that no human could make such a swift recovery from the state he'd been in when Seto found him, even if he had somehow still been alive.

There was no medicine known to man that could do such a thing for a patient. Something else had to be involved, and Seto's ideas ran from technological involvement all the way to Kisara's pendant.

"You're the one who pointed out," Seto retorted, "just moments ago that he was playing on the beach. Does it sound like a kid like that needs bed rest? He was fine. My brother has been treated well for his injuries, and has recovered enough to spend copious amounts of time being active, as reports have indicated. So there is no basis to claim he's in a fragile physical state. In fact, the other survivor was with him in the water for most of the day. He exaggerated."

This answer seemed to satisfy some reporters, but not others.

"But the report claimed that the boy was in distress," a reporter remarked.

"And I am claiming that I was actually a witness to his reaction. He is also a teenager, and occasionally wants to get away with whatever he can. Who would know that better than myself?"

But Seto felt like these days he was the last person who understood the boy who lived in his house.

The reported had no other comments to make and others jumped in with new questions, but Seto had run out of drive. He ended the conference, with no mention of the families who were mourning their losses, and his desire to tell them he felt their pain.

After all, he knew that nobody could feel his.


	28. Do You See Me At All Under The Tall Wave

Seto woke before the sun rose and dialed the number Leon gave him for his hotel room. An older woman answered in German, and Seto did his best to respond in her language without a warning, but his conversational German wasn't as polished as he would have liked. Thankfully after a moment she directed the call to Leon.

"Good morning," he mumbled. "Sorry about that. My brother made me bring my caretaker. She decided to filter my calls. I guess it's a good think you speak German."

"I realize I'm calling early," Seto said, but it wasn't exactly an apology. "I needed to get feedback from on you what we discussed at my vacation home."

"Oh, right. Is this about when you wanted me to help Mokuba relax?"

"Yes. How did that go? Did you have any success?"

"Um, yeah, actually. We played some games, ate the pizza that you ordered—thank you for putting me up for the day, by the way."

"It was for the cause," Seto dismissed. "What did you think of his behavior after that point?"

"He calmed down, significantly."

Seto may have wanted to hear that, but now that Leon had said it he realized that Mokuba acting like himself in a few isolated situations wouldn't fix what had happened to him—whatever that was exactly. Seto hoped to understand it sooner than later, and a bit of evidence would go a long way.

"But then he said something weird."

"Yes?" Seto urged.

"He mentioned that he's interested in being at home alone for a few weeks. He even said he'll invite me over."

"Home alone? Why does he think I'll let that happen?"

"We were playing a game and he seemed very relaxed, and like himself. It was a relief, really. But it was still unsettling. Mokuba's not usually lazy, and if he thinks that when you go over to Germany to finish the job he was supposed to do, you'll let him just hang around the house doing nothing, I don't really think he knows you. Even I know that won't happen."

"I never said I was going to Germany."

"You didn't?"

"Not to him, especially. And I don't think it's a good idea to leave him alone that long. I couldn't expect him to want to get on a plane again so soon to come with me, either," he said, although he doubted that was a real problem. It was more about what the press might say.

"That's true. Then why does he think you're going?"

"It must be an assumption on his part. I'm organizing another team to go instead. Smaller this time, for many reasons. Did he say what he intended to do with that unrestrained freedom?"

"Not specifically."

"But he wanted you to come over."

"He mentioned the idea, but I think he only did because I was sitting there, like it was an expectation. He otherwise sounded like he had the whole 'vacation' planned out in his head. That's just a guess, though. He didn't say anything else about it."

 _He wants to get rid of me_ , Seto thought immediately.

It made perfect sense. If someone had already managed to—either through technological sorcery or _actual_ sorcery, which Seto could no longer deny as a possibility—re-awaken Mokuba's body and put another person in it, the next move would logically be to do something about Seto himself.

If someone was trying to infiltrate his corporation, or simply his life, it was actually a genius move. Seto could wind up having an 'accident' himself, and whoever this person was working with—because there _had_ to be at least one other person involved but it seemed like more—could move in and make a show of adopting Mokuba. Given that only a Kaiba could run the Kaiba Corporation, years down the road everything would fall to him, and the public would never know a thing.

The whole plan was pure brilliance.

"Kaiba?" Leon questioned when Seto had been silent too long.

It was brilliant, but it was already well underway. Seto could appreciate the strategy all he wanted, but he still had to find a way to stop it before it was too late.

"Kaiba?"

"I'm here," Seto said, checking in again.

"I didn't notice anything else out of the ordinary," Leon said over the phone. "I'm sorry I can't help you any more than that."

"I understand," Seto responded, with all the politeness his frustration would allow him.

Leon had been a fair ally while Mokuba was recovering, but even though they came across the same evidence of the boy's behavior, Seto hadn't made his theory clear to Leon.

"May I ask one final question?" Seto asked.

"Of course."

"Given what you've observed, what do you think happened to Mokuba to change his behavior?"

Leon took a moment to answer.

"I wasn't there, of course, so it's hard to say."

"I'm just looking for your opinion."

"I think it's possible that between the accident and the stress I'm sure he's dealing with, maybe he's traumatized. Have you considered that?"

"Trauma doesn't manifest itself in the ways that I've seen him acting. I've looked into that."

Leon sighed. "Honestly—and this probably sounds crazy—sometimes I feel like he's a completely different person. Have you thought about having him talk to a professional? Even if it's not trauma, maybe it's something else."

"Let me tell you what I believe."

* * *

Seto knocked on the boy's door. He heard slow shuffling inside and eventually the door opened.

Seto tried to ignore the surge of emotions that rushed him when he saw the boy, wearing Mokuba's favorite pajamas, dressed the same as all the times he had wandered the house for half a morning on low-key weekends and a rare day off. Seto had never approved of the sloth, but he longed for one of those lazy Sunday mornings with his brother.

It was the expression that allowed Seto to steel himself. Mokuba would have looked sleepy, maybe a little confused given the hour. But the teenager standing in front of him looked hostile. Then the expression softened to something resembling irritation, but still didn't fit Mokuba's face.

It was only an expression, and it gave Seto zero evidence that there was truly anything wrong under the surface of that skin, but no matter how irrational he felt, he still could not shake the sense that he was right.

"What?" Mokuba asked. There was a tone to the voice that he couldn't place.

Seto took a breath, then remembered that he'd managed to avoid Mokuba since the press conference. He'd asked Isono to ensure he was busy during the airing, but that didn't mean he couldn't access it later. Seto expected Mokuba knew what he'd said.

"I'll be going out this morning. I expect you to stay home and keep busy. You should be able to get back on track with your school work."

"Will you be going to Germany yourself soon?"

The question came out of nowhere, and reeked of eagerness. Seto kept himself guarded.

"I don't expect so."

"Oh."

"Why would I?"

"The project still needs approval, doesn't it?"

"That doesn't mean I have to be the one to go. I'm sending another team."

Seto wondered if he should have said that. Mokuba's sudden curiosity had him on edge, and he was wary about giving him too many details.

"Did you want me to go away for a few weeks?" Seto asked.

Mokuba startled, like he'd been caught stealing an extra dessert.

"No, I just wanted to know. Is that okay?"

Seto ignored the question, like Mokuba had ignored what he had said. He considered repeating himself about the school work, but knew that he would do what ever he wanted once as long as Seto and his employees we're watching him like a hawk, and there was little he could do about it. But given Seto's newest revelation, he wanted to spend as little time around Mokuba as possible.

So he walked away.

* * *

At eight o'clock in the morning, someone buzzed at Seto's front gate. The _last_ thing he wanted to do, even without seeing who it was, was to open it. But at a glance at the security screen that he wasn't sure why he took, he could see the distinctive spiked hair of the two front passengers in a beat-up white vehicle. Given the events of the past few weeks, he couldn't quite come up with a valid reason not to let them in, aside from the fact that he was even less interested in visitors than usual.

So when the two had parked the shabby old car and climbed the front steps, Seto opened the front door before they could knock.

"What do you want?" he asked flatly.

Seto was dressed in unusual attire for himself. Instead of his fitted jeans, he wore more formal black slacks and a black dress shirt, accessorized by a glossy silver tie embellished with faint, almost indiscernible diagonal blue stripes. A large black trench coat was slung over one arm and Seto carried a small, flat wooden box in the same hand. He looked like he was preparing to leave.

Atem spoke up. "We knew that if we'd only tried to call, you would have told us not to bother."

"Then you probably shouldn't have bothered," Seto retorted.

"We had wanted to… visit with Mokuba. But we know how the situation looks, and we certainly know how you feel about it, so we came to see you instead."

"You don't know how I feel about it, I assure you," he said quietly. "Why did you come to see me instead? If you want to spend more time with what's left of my brother, I am no one to stop you."

"Atem and I," Yugi said, "Well, we talked it over last night, Kaiba. We agree with you, about Mokuba's... _state_."

Seto's expression shifted quickly from a blank mask to a disgusted sneer.

"Mokuba's "state"?" Seto spat. "Mokuba doesn't _have_ a state! Mokuba—the brother I knew and looked after for nearly fifteen years—is _dead_. And this," he gestured first to the polished wooden box in his hand, then to himself as a whole, "is for him. He's gone, and he is never coming back. If I can't bury his body, then the very least my _brother_ deserves is a formal send-off."

Yugi and Atem stared at Seto a moment, then shared a look with each other.

"You're giving him a funeral," Atem said solemnly.

Seto didn't respond.

"May we…? I mean, would it be alright if…?" Yugi tried in a weak voice, but wasn't sure how to get the words out.

Seto let out a sigh.

"It won't be a formal affair, nor will it be open to the public. But if you feel so compelled… I will permit you to be present if you wish to be."

Yugi offered Seto a little smile and a nod.

"Come to the Domino harbor in about an hour. Know that this is not a public event, but... you may bring the others if they wish to come. He..." Seto seemed about to say something but stopped and shook his head. He made a move to close the door. "I still have a few things to prepare."

Yugi and Atem both offered their farewells and stepped back from the door.

* * *

By nine-thirty, Seto's yacht was slowly creeping through the foaming sea waters. Seto stood at the rear before the railing, peering out over the water. His dark coat covered his shoulders and buttoned up his chest. For all his formalities of dress, the air temperature over the water was too cold to even let it show. The wooden box was open, displayed on a small stone pedestal, but Seto's eyes were on the water below him.

Mokuba's plane had crashed before it reached the ocean, but somehow a burial at sea seemed appropriate, if only because _nothing_ about Mokuba's tragic accident and end had seemed appropriate.

The box contained a small picture of Mokuba, along with a faded photograph of the brothers' parents, whom the crowd standing behind him had never seen. The crumpled remains of Mokuba's locket and leather cord had been folded neatly and laid into the purple velvet interior. Next to the box was a small bouquet of white roses tied together with a violet satin ribbon to match the box's interior.

Seto had been silent ever since the crowd had met him at the dock. He'd noted their arrival with a nod, then led them onto the ship. But he turned around and addressed those gathered behind him.

"I feel compelled to thank you for coming. Not for myself—if I had it my own way none of you would be here for this—but, on my brother's behalf, for deciding to honor Mokuba's life today."

Most of the attendants made some attempt to clean up their usual appearances.

Yugi and Atem were present and standing at the front, only a few feet from Seto. They dressed in nearly matching black jeans and shirts. Behind them Anzu stood in a dark top and skirt that hung past her knees. Honda and Jounouchi stood beside her. Both appeared to have cleaned up and shaved, but wore their usual t-shirt-and-jeans ensembles.

Isono stood off to one side with hands clasped in front of him and his head slightly bowed. His typical business attire was technically funeral appropriate, but he'd taken off his security glasses for the first time that even Seto could remember seeing.

Leon looked like he felt the most out-of-place. He'd donned a traditional black suit, but the expression on his face betrayed that he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to be there—or perhaps if he even wanted this ritual to be taking place at all.

Seto didn't meet any of the faces in the crowd as he prepared to speak his version of a eulogy except, on occasion, Leon's.

"Mokuba was only one of thirty-seven passengers and staff aboard the aircraft when it crashed," Seto said slowly. His voice sounded sterile, but not as mechanical as he almost expected himself to sound. "Thirty-five of his fellow passengers also lost their lives in the tragic event, and as such, I do not deem my brother's lost life as extraordinary by any means, except that he was the one passenger aboard that aircraft whose life affected mine to such a degree."

As he delivered his unprepared speech, Seto realized that _these_ were the words he'd wanted to offer to the public during his press conference. He'd wanted to show those hurting that he shared their grief; he'd wanted to show them that he felt their losses, more personally than they knew. He hoped against hope that he wasn't speaking these words merely to scratch that itch. He didn't want to use Mokuba's final send-off for self-satisfaction.

But what he really hoped to accomplish with the words he believed Mokuba would never know he'd spoken, he still wasn't sure. Perhaps it was part of the grieving process. Or maybe it was sheer social expectation that drove him to say anything at all.

Maybe part of him was beginning to grasp at any attempt of reconciliation. Of _comfort_. Seto shifted suddenly, so that his gaze was aimed at the wooden box displaying Mokuba's picture rather than at the people he wished hadn't come. He knew beforehand that he'd feel offended—violated, even—at their attendance of such a personal nature, but all the same he knew that Mokuba _deserved_ to have an audience larger than one to witness the burial of his casket, even if it was only a symbolic one.

The image of Mokuba's corpse flashed in his mind before he could push the invading thought away. But the alien feeling of his flesh returned to Seto's fingertips, and he forced his hands into his pockets and rubbed at the fabric lining to urge the sensation away.

"Mokuba _didn't_ deserve this utter befouling of his remains," Seto continued, "that prevents me from giving him a real burial and laying his body to rest. And I cannot give him that chance as the situation exists, without my actions being dealt with as murder. But I will not sully my brother's memory with such an act. If the world wishes to see him as a survivor, then I will let them.

"As for myself—and all of you, I gather, or you would not be here—the truth is known. Nothing makes Mokuba's _death_ stand out as more tragic than that of any other passenger who lost their life. It is in his _life_ that he has been cheated, dealt a worse hand than any other, and it is for his _life_ that I now mourn."

Seto reached into an inner breast pocket of his coat and retrieved a Duel Monsters trading card. He stared at it silently for a few seconds before placing it into the box, face-up. The fierce and radiant face of Seto's prized Blue Eyes White Dragon sneered up at him. He closed the lid, and lifted a fine chain from around his neck. Hanging on the end of the chain was a tiny bronze key, and he used it to lock the box.

"Mokuba is, and has been for nearly as long as I can remember, the only family I have known. That fact does not change now that he's gone, but I am no more alone than I was when he lived, if only for the simple fact _that_ he lived. That he enhanced my life to such great effect for as long as I had him by my side, will continue to be my strength. My only hope now, is for that strength to be sufficient for me to right the wrong that has been done to him…"

 _A_ _nd to manage against the imposter in my house until I do,_ he added silently.

Seto picked up a long bundle of cord slung over the railing and wrapped it tightly around the delicate wooden box, then tied it in a knot for the box to hang from.

"I have failed my duty to protect you in life, Mokuba," Seto said quietly, as if he believed Mokuba were inside the box in his hands. "For that I do not deserve your forgiveness. My only job remaining as it pertains to you, and my only chance to reconcile my failure against you, is to ensure that the memories of you carried by those of us who still live will not be compromised."

Seto heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. With one hand he gripped the locket hanging around his neck while he slowly lowered the box overboard with the other hand. The rest of the crowd stepped up to the railing to watch it descend. Anzu was crying quietly, a tissue pressed to her cheek, but at the far end of the group, Leon was sobbing and hiccuping audibly.

When the box reached the water Seto let go of the cord and watched it slip down to the waves and sink out of sight. Then he retrieved the bundle of roses and loosened the ribbon. He took one delicate flower for himself and split the rest, passing three to his right and four to his left. Nobody questioned how Seto had known to account for exactly eight.

He stood in silence while he examined the flower. A wave of emotions he'd been pressing down for days passed through him and he felt himself tremble. His hand clenched on the stem of the rose while he fought for control.

When Seto was satisfied that the weakness he felt was passing, he calmed himself and realized that he had pressed his thumb onto a thorn. He brushed his fingers over the edges of the white petals, and where his pricked finger touched, the flower turned red.

 _This will not be the last time I bleed for you, Mokuba_.

He tossed the rose into the water. When he spoke, his voice was barely loud enough for those beside him to hear over the hum of the engine and the waves crashing against the hull.

"Goodbye, dear brother. You will be missed."

Seto turned away from the railing the second the words escaped his lips. He didn't watch the others toss their flowers into the water, and he didn't remain for a moment of grateful appreciation over his brother's friends. He made his way back into the ship's cabin and closed the door behind him. His part in the ritual—the part he was willing to allow others to witness—was over.


	29. I Am Machine

Seto slowly began to find some level of solace in routine. He worked, he ate, he slept; he _did_. But all feelings were swept aside as soon as he began to feel them.

Primarily, he made it a routine to ignore Mokuba—and nearly everyone else—as much as humanly possible. He rose early and traveled to the office alone, and stayed late into the evening. He began new projects as soon as another was nearing its end, to keep himself as busy as he could.

When he was home, he began taking meals alone in his office whenever he felt like he could without drawing too much scrutiny. He piled school work on Mokuba to keep him occupied as well.

The grief and guilt never strayed far from his mind, but he burned the emotions into energy to fuel his distractions. Reminders of his life before the aircraft crash lingered. The pending report on the collision was a constant stirring of the pot, but he tried to handle the officials as mechanically as possible, begrudging how drawn-out the legal process was becoming.

Seto sat at his desk in the late afternoon, several weeks after the crash, trying to process some documentation or another when Isono knocked at the door. Seto lifted his eyes—a non-verbal invitation.

"Sir, I have paperwork you're going to want to see."

Seto pushed aside the papers on his desk to make room for the folder Isono held.

"What kind of paperwork?" he asked as he took it.

"Legal papers, I'm afraid. Because your speculation of foul play in the aircraft's crash went public, many of the families of the deceased have sought out legal action against Kaiba Corporation."

Seto pushed the folder away without opening it.

"Offer a settlement."

"Sir? They're collectively suing for millions of dollars."

"They deserve it. I'll settle so this doesn't have to be tied up in court. Let the people bury their dead."

"Can Kaiba Corp survive that kind of settlement? Are you also thinking of the families of the employees should the company need to begin cutting back?"

"There are other jobs in the city. Just get me whatever papers I have to sign to give the families of the surviors the money they're entitled to."

"I… don't recommend this action."

Seto stared hard at his employee. Isono twitched under his gaze.

"I was preparing to offer a sum whether they filed a lawsuit or not."

"But you're essentially pleading guilty to—"

"To a security breech? Isn't that what happened?"

"I believe that's still being investigated. They never did find the flight data. But… Mokuba spoke to reporters with that story, so…"

"I personally don't believe anything that comes out of that boy's mouth anymore. But the news stations will eat it up, and since the investigators found one body that was unaccounted for, it solidifies the theory. How could I possibly prove that there wasn't a security breech?"

"I don't know, sir."

"It isn't as though I _want_ to plead guilty to the accusations. I fully realize the implications this will have, and the backlash on sales and publicity. But my company isn't responsible for endangering the _public_. It will blow over before KC goes bankrupt."

"Have you consulted Public Relations on a move like this?"

"PR suggested a settlement. It just so happened that I had thought to do it first. Isono, I'm not asking for your advice. I'm doing this, and you need to fall in line."

Isono hesitated, but eventually nodded and bowed. "Yes, sir. I will bring you the documents."

* * *

Seto watched from the doorway of Mokuba's bedroom as the boy pounded away at his keyboard. Rather, the keyboard that belonged to Mokuba. He no longer felt much doubt about who inhabited his brother's body.

A digital character on the laptop's screen was busy running and slashing his way through a forest full of attacking plants.

He stood quietly for what felt like a long time before the boy finally addressed him.

"This technology is impressive," he commented. He paused in his fighting to throw a glance over his shoulder at Seto. "It's nothing like VR, but for an MMO platform, it's nice."

" _Nice_?" Seto sneered.

He giggled. He closed the lid abruptly and turned to face Seto. He sat cross-legged on Mokuba's bed. The fact that this boy was even _in_ the room made Seto want to start the whole thing on fire. Those were Mokuba's sheets he'd been sleeping under, Mokuba's laptop he played on, and Mokuba's books he was reading. It wasn't right.

Nobody should be touching Mokuba's belongings anymore.

"But you're here for something else, aren't you? Something more than my commentary on your video game."

"You're not even _trying_ to pretend you're him anymore, are you? At least, not around me. Mokuba worked on that game with me. He would have called it " _our_ " game."

He shrugged. "Why ignore the elephant in the room? You and I both know who I am. So why don't you just say it?"

Seto sneered at the arrogance. But he was eager to end the charade.

"You're Noa Kaiba," he said.

The boy's face spread into a grin. "Right you are, Seto."

"What the hell are you trying to accomplish?" he asked, even if he had a strong idea of Noa's scheme already.

"You think I've gotten _this_ far," he gestured to Mokuba's body, "to give everything away so soon? Maybe I'm not plotting anything. Maybe I just wanted to feel like a human being again. It's not the first time I've stolen Mokuba's body for just that purpose, you know."

"I know. And that wasn't the only time I'll make sure you're stopped."

Noa gave a dangerous smirk.

"Try me."

Seto put in all his effort not to assault the teenager in his own home, and every ounce of his control was needed. He tore away from the doorway, fighting to ignore Noa's taunting expression.

* * *

Time was wearing him down. Seto was beginning to grow complacent, the greatest of all sins against his tightly woven security net.

Noa stood at his side with his back to Seto, perusing his personal library of books. He brushed a finger against each book's spine, not bothering to keep from touching Seto's expensive collector's editions. Mokuba knew better. Seto didn't say a word.

When Noa started to quietly hum a melancholy tune, Seto didn't call him a disruption and order him out of his office. When Noa finally pulled a book from the shelf and chose to begin reading it in the puffy armchair in the corner, Seto let him read.

When he finally closed his laptop hours later, ready to break for lunch, he'd actually _forgotten—_ for less than a second—that the teenage boy thumbing through his encyclopedia _wasn't_ Mokuba Kaiba. Seto cursed himself for slipping, reprimanded himself for being careless enough to forget. What if he hadn't remembered in time, and let the words on the tip of his tongue slip out?

 _Ready to eat, kid?_

So simple. It would have been such a mistake. What kind of satisfaction would he have given Noa, had he made that mistake? He could see the smug, insensitive expression on his step-brother's face. He tried to picture it on Mokuba's. He couldn't.

"Is it time for lunch, Nii-sama?" Noa asked in his sweetest voice, the one he used when he was trying to make Seto forget who he really was. Noa put his index finger on the page, marking where he had been reading, and looked up.

"Do what you want," Seto said dully. He suddenly wasn't hungry. And he had someplace to be. "I won't be joining you." Trying to manage a meal together, eating at the same table in cold silence seemed like too much of a burden just then. He threw a dark coat over his shoulders and stalked out of the room, hoping Noa wouldn't try to follow him.

Seto's disinterest in the situation suddenly alarmed him. Noa had gained a foothold in his life, and Seto allowed it to continue without lifting a finger against him.

An entire month had passed since the day Seto felt Mokuba's cold skin on his fingers. Any other year, Mokuba would have bored himself of most of his birthday gifts already. This year, he hadn't received them.

It was all an insult. Seto refused to stand for it another moment, and he began to devise a strategy.

* * *

Seto's heels clicked loudly across Kaiba Corp's tiled hallway. He caught the eye of two security guards near the door to his main office and gestured as he passed them. Both men stepped into the room behind him and closed the decorative double doors.

"Sir?" one of them stepped closer to his employer's desk.

As Seto settled in, he placed a laptop to one side, but ignored it. He sat down, tented his fingers, and met the face of his employee. The man, with dark brown hair and a pointed beard, tried his best to stare intently back.

Eventually Seto's gaze shifted to the other man, with darker hair.

"Isono. Fugata." Both men gave a slight bow, Isono stepped forward. "You both know well the necessity of your jobs' confidentiality."

"Yes, sir."

"Certainly, Kaiba-chan."

"You understand, then, the consequences of anything I might be inclined to tell you ever leaving this room." Seto wasn't speaking in questions.

"Yes, sir," they said and bowed in unison. Seto nodded. Years ago these men were pudding in his hands. He was assured to see that over time they'd each grown a backbone.

"Fine, then." He _knew_ they knew; he'd made sure of it. Both of his executive heads of security knew well what had befallen the last band of employees who had threatened treachery against Kaiba-chan. The Big Five had never breathed another puff of non-virtual air.

Seto pulled a newspaper from the briefcase on the floor and slapped it on his desk. The publication was outdated, marked from a few days after Mokuba's airplane had crashed. The security guards took only a second to glance at the front-page article. They'd read it the day it came out.

"This isn't news to either of you, is it?"

Fugata shook his head.

Isono furrowed his brow, seeming confused at the question.

"Of course not, sir," he said.

"I'd like to know what either of you think of this." Seto sat back in his chair and waited.

A beat of silence.

Fugata glanced at Isono. Isono gestured for him to speak first.

"The article lists the deceased. The reporter counted Mokuba-sama among them," Fugata said cautiously.

"And?"

"And it clearly isn't so," he finished. Then, slowly, "I had wondered why you had not addressed the paper and demanded a rebuttal, sir."

Seto acknowledged the answer, then nodded to Isono to speak.

"I was present at the hospital. I recall your concerns."

"I'm not asking you to tell me what _I_ think. I'm looking for your input."

Isono took a breath and stood up a little taller. He said, "I honestly don't know what to make of it."

Fugata nodded, to say he felt the same.

"Good answer," Seto said. He brushed the old newspaper into the trash. Next he pushed in front of them a stack of typed papers; behavioral notes, organized in columns labeled "before" and "after".

"I have noted that the young master's behavioral patterns have… evolved somewhat," Fugata pointed out.

" _Evolved_? Are you joking?" Seto spat. "He's a delinquent! He speaks against me, he refuses to follow instructions. He taunts and talks back. None of his current behavior patterns mirror who he was before the aircraft crashed."

"To the extent that I have seen, I would agree, Kaiba-sama," Isono said.

Seto showed them a blueprint of Kaiba Corp's virtual reality pod technology.

"I was initially skeptical when doctors told me that my dead brother had a heartbeat. Resuscitating a heart after five minutes is not unheard of. There are even stories of men and women claiming to have been clinically dead longer when successful treatment was received."

He tossed historical medical reports on top of the pages of notes.

"But as far as I understood, Mokuba had to have been dead for no less than eight hours. His body had already begun the postmortem processes."

Neither man seemed inclined to respond. Fugata had the VR pod blueprints in his hands.

"You don't believe," Isono started after a moment, "that the brother you have gone home with is Mokuba-sama; is that correct, sir?"

Seto shot a glare at Isono, who put up his hands in defense.

Fugata glanced over, then put the paperwork back on the desk.

"I didn't need somebody to fill me in, Kaiba-sama," Fugata said. "The conclusion is clear from your evidence."

Isono nodded his agreement.

Satisfied, Seto pulled out the final piece in his arsenal. He flipped open the laptop and launched a video pulled from the security feeds.

"I had a camera installed in my brother's bedroom as soon as we came home."

He turned the screen and began to play a video shot from one corner of the room. The camera was stationed atop a shelf – Mokuba's bookcase – and positioned strategically near a mirror that gave additional views. Seto stood in one corner of the screen speaking to Mokuba, who was seated on the corner of his bed. Both of their mouths could be seen moving. Seto turned up the volume just as Noa outed himself to Seto – and to the security guards.

"Noa Kaiba, Sir?" Isono asked. "Gozaburo Kaiba's biological son?"

"The first and last I've heard of the spoiled brat was years ago, some time _after_ his official date of death. You might recall. When my brother and I logged out from the VR platform designed from this blueprint, he was still inside the computer mainframe. That computer was destroyed. I have never been fully convinced that his presence was gone completely after that day."

"And now you have solid evidence that he is, indeed, being housed within Mokuba-sama's body," Isono said.

Seto scoffed.

" _Solid_ evidence?" Seto swung his arm out wide and knocked the stack of papers and blueprints to the floor. "This is garbage!" he shouted. Isono did his best not to flinch. "This would never hold up in court. I'd be tied up and labeled a lunatic if I tried to defend myself with this trash." Seto slammed his open palms on the desktop, his clenching fingers crumpling the few scattered papers that remained.

Fugata tried to hide a nervous twitch.

"Defend yourself... against what charges, Kaiba-sama?" Isono dared to question.

Seto's face rose and his dark eyes met Isono's face. He stared at the employee while his breathing slowed and a calm slipped over him.

"I'm _so_ glad you asked."


End file.
